“Good. I feel much better leaving her here knowing that.” He gave me a casual wave like we were old buddies, as though I hadn’t just watched him sniff around what was mine. Then he turned and ambled toward the exit with that same unhurried ease that had probably disarmed a hundred people before tonight.
I didn’t smile back. Or nod. I watched him go, my jaw tight, tracking every step he took until the bell over the door jingled, the sound too cheerful for the red heat building in my chest.
It took everything I had not to follow.
Maren’s eyes were on me, filled with curiosity. Her lips were parted, and I knew whatever question was on the tip of her tongue would be one I didn’t want to answer yet. So I didn’t give her the chance.
“Don’t worry about it. Go back to work, baby.”
Her gaze lingered for a beat, then she gave me a small nod and turned away. She didn’t understand what was happening.Didn’t see the storm rolling in around her. But I did. And I was going to make damn sure she never felt the full weight of it.
I slid back into the booth, angling my body to give me a full view of the front door, register, and every customer still lingering in the diner. I leaned back, casually sipping my coffee like I wasn’t a half-second from snapping. The only thing stopping me was the tight control that had been trained into me long before I wore the Hounds patch even though it was hanging by a thread.
Through the front windows, I watched the guy walk to a parked vehicle down the block. The make, model, and license plate raised another red flag. The same black SUV with tinted windows had been showing up at odd intervals around Maren’s life. Near the diner, across from her home, once outside the damn grocery store. It wasn’t always the same driver. But it was always the same vehicle.
Wizard had been trying to pull the details apart for two days, but they were buried under a dummy corp so layered it may as well have been built from smoke. I’d seen a lot of clean ops in my life, but this was surgical. Precise. And now it had a calm, forgettable face that made small talk and asked harmless questions while he marked his target.
My jaw locked. My spine hadn’t uncoiled since the guy smiled at me and slid out of the booth. That grin hadn’t been fake—but it had been wrong.
He was good. Too good. That kind of laid-back ease wasn’t casual. It was curated. The warm smile, the way he leaned into the booth, the natural rhythm of his questions—he was a pro. Not a hitter. Or muscle. Something worse.
He was an asset scout. Retrieval prep.
Fuck.
He was checking her threat awareness. Reading the crowd patterns. Calculating proximity and response times. Thatcomment about whether she was going home alone wasn’t curiosity. It was an assessment of her vulnerability.
Every word he’d said had been calculated to draw information without alerting her.
He’d already known, though. He was simply confirming what he suspected.
I clenched my jaw hard enough that my molars ached. Five days I’d been coming in here. Watching. Waiting. Observing Maren as she moved through her night shifts, as if she didn’t have a clue her world was about to tilt. She smiled at every customer. Topped off coffee. Chatted about pie and sides like she didn’t feel the shadows crawling closer.
But I did.
Every fucking minute of it.
I even watched over her from a distance when I couldn’t be with her. Wizard had tapped the diner's security feed and local traffic cams. Fed them through a learning script to flag her location anytime she crossed the frame.
I’d thought about bringing this to King, but it wasn’t club business yet. Even though I’d been monitoring the weapons pipeline, this—Maren—was just mine.
My obsession. My fucking failure if something happened to her.
I dragged a hand down my face and checked the time. Her shift would end in just under an hour. Every other night, I’d leave ten minutes early, wait in the lot, and follow her home. She never noticed, which only reinforced what I already knew—she needed someone to fucking protect her. Someone who knew how predators moved and would see this shit before it could get close.
Like me.
Following her home might not be an option anymore.
The next time she ducked into the back for something, I stood and strolled to the counter under the pretense of needing a coffee refill. Susan was nowhere in sight. And Mark was behind the pass window, focused on a ticket. No one was paying me any attention.
I casually leaned over the counter and flipped through the stack of credit card receipts. It didn’t take long. The third one down had the name I needed. The amount and timing matched. Maren’s handwriting was neat and precise.
I slipped it back into the pile, made sure everything looked untouched, and walked calmly back to my booth.
Then I pulled out my phone and fired off a message.
Me
