Lucky freezes. “What do you mean,came by?”
“They showed up at my building.” A small grunt of pain. “Wanted to know where you were.”
“Banks—”
“I told them nothing useful.”
A beat.
“Eventually.”
Her free hand flies to her mouth. I reach for her wrist, grounding her.
Banks continues, “They lifted my wallet. Saw the Cedar Lake business card I had from that pastry shop you like. They… put some pieces together.”
Lucky’s breathing stutters.
“Do you need assistance?” I ask, stepping closer to the phone like I can get between him and danger through the line.
"I’mfine, Maddox,” Banks insists, but his voice cracks on the word fine. “I handled myself. And a close friend already took care of the cleanup. I’m just calling to say—Lucky, you need to be alert, okay? But don’t panic.”
Lucky laughs—this tiny, broken sound. “That’s like telling a match not to burn.”
Banks sighs. “I’m sorry, girl. You didn’t need this. Not after… everything else going on.”
Lucky’s eyes flick to me—big, wild, tired. “Where is he now? Jett.”
“No idea. But he’s looking.”
A muscle in my jaw ticks. “He won’t find her.”
“Yeah,” Banks says softly. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
The call ends after more reassurances. Lucky stands there shaking—silent, eyes fixed on the floorboards like they might split open and swallow her.
I step in front of her.
Gently tip her chin up with my fingers.
“Hey.”
Her breath shudders out. I catch her shoulders, sliding my hands down her arms.
“You’re safe.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
My voice turns colder than stone. “Because anyone coming for you has to come through me.”
She swallows hard. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“That’s my line.”
Something loosens in her expression—a crack where fear slips through, bright and painful.
“Let’s get out,” I say. “Get your mind off it.”
