And nothing ever happened. Just the occasional puzzle box.
Eventually, I shed the bodyguard, eager to get some semblance of normalcy.
Over time, the puzzles became a treat I’d look forward to…a strange comfort. Whoever this person was knew I’d enjoy them.
I rub my arms. It’s toasty in here, but I’m still so darn cold.
Unsettled, I flip on the flat screen, hoping some background noise will cheer me up.
“—reporting from what used to be Café Aroma. Officials say the fire was contained to the building—”
My mouth drops as I stare at the wreckage of the quaint coffee shop I visited this morning. Charred walls, blackened floors, melted plastic. Nothing recognizable.
What the hell? Everything was fine a few hours ago. What about the other customers? Or Leanne, the waitress with sad eyes?
“Two men, believed to be the owner and his son, were found deceased.”
Two men. So, not Leanne.Relief sweeps through me, followed by a pinch of guilt. Two people died today. That’s still sad.Even if it was the asshole who scared Leanne.
“Arson isn’t suspected. Rumors alleged the café may be a laundering front for ‘The Association.’ But whether the mysterious society exists is still unproven.”
My blood runs cold, and my mouth dries. The goosebumps return with a vengeance.
The Association exists, all right. The news makes them sound like an urban legend, but I know better. They’re real—rich and powerful.
Unstoppable.
Unless you have someone more dangerous on your side.
His face crosses my mind—dark hair, a masculine jaw, a singular scar, and blistering emerald eyes. I shake it off.
The Association has tried for years to recruit my family.We should be flattered,they say.Unlimited power will be ours.
But when we said no, they resorted to threats and violence—embezzlement, kidnappings, and what they did to my half sister, Taylor, when she was sixteen? I shove the dark thoughts away.
Repulsed, I turn off the screen. My palms sweat as the earlier unease burgeons into fear.There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m safe.
I slip my pendant back into my dress, nestling it against my skin. The metal warms, and a heartbeat from the past pulls me under.
Hollow Gardens. An elm tree. A carved message on its trunk. A boy who stole my heart and whispered my name like a prayer—my first and only love—who vanished one day without a trace.
Where are you, Kian?
Enough sulking around.
Action, not reaction. I type a message to Emerson.
Lana
I’d rather play it safe too. I saw a similar SUV this morning outside my office. I’ll be careful. Let me know what you find.
With renewed determination, I grab my purse and Emerson’s packet, then head across the sky bridge to The Orchid.
I’ll chat with my siblings or get a quick massage to settle my nerves. Then I’ll tackle the pile of work waiting for me. And starting next week, I’ll volunteer at the animal shelter Belle used to work at. Time to find that missing passion.
Fifteenminutes later, I stride into our family’s reserved room at the club. My family is big—seven of us, not including Dad. Someone’s always here.
The grand halls are quiet today, my footfalls echoing against marble. Muffled conversations take place in secluded alcoves—deals made, news disseminated. A few patrons and waitstaff nod as I pass them by.
