But the second she turned to hug someone else, I felt my phone vibrate in my coat pocket.
My entire body locked.
Not because I thought it was dangerous.
Because my body had been waiting forthisfor weeks.
I pulled it out with fingers that didn’t feel like mine.
Unknown number.
One message:Lady.
My throat closed.
It wasn’t a question.
It wasn’t a greeting.
It was a claim wrapped in one word.
The cold rushed up my spine so fast I went dizzy, like my body recognized a predator in the dark even when my mind tried to deny it.
Harper was laughing beside me, oblivious. “Oh, my God, that couple is about to fall off the barstool?—”
My phone buzzed again:Happy New Year. You’re going north.
A third vibration followed before I could breathe:Don’t argue. Don’t ask questions. Check your email at 9 a.m.
I stared at the screen, fireworks reflecting off it like sparks.
My heart hammered so hard I felt it in my throat.
This wasn’t possible.
It shouldn’t be real.
There were rules. In my head, there were always rules. Boundaries. Ethics. Lines you didn’t cross.
But the letter had been a line.
And someone—somewhere—had crossed it back.
I forced myself to look up. Forced my face into neutral. Forced my body not to react like it wanted to kneel.
Harper saw my expression and sobered instantly.
“What?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I lied, because lying was safer than truth.
Harper squinted. “That didn’t sound like nothing.”
I slid my phone back into my pocket like I could hide it from her and from myself. “Work,” I said quickly. “Just … work.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Of course, it is.”
But her gaze lingered on me. Knowing. Not convinced.
