Eden looks between us, her expression serious now. “So what happens next?”
“I’ll send it to Tobias. Someone in tech or evidence might be able to clean it up.”
Marissa leans in, eyes still fixed on the photo. “Leviathan would have cameras. And you’re the assistant DA. You could get the footage, couldn’t you?”
It’s not a no… but it’s not a yes either.
“I’d need a judge to sign off before we could pull anything. And we’re not at that point.”
Yet.
Eden stirs her Bloody Mary with her straw. “What do you think this is? A threat? Or a twisted crush?”
I glance down at the phone again, at the napkin, at his penmanship.
“I think someone overheard what I said… and now they’re testing me. Checking to see if I meant it.”
Brielle’s lips curl into a wicked grin. “If this is the guy, I’d risk a little danger. Some men are worth the burn.”
I press my lips together, fighting the heat crawling up my spine. “I was just burned, and I’m not looking to be scorched.”
Brielle leans in, eyes glittering. “Be honest. You don’t hate this.”
I say nothing.
“You like that he’s watching. That he sees you. That he pickedyou.”
Truth bangs against my ribs. Because she’s not wrong. Idolike it a little—the attention, the intensity, the possibility.
Someone out there wants me badly enough to follow. To watch.
I just can’t tell if I’m being adored… or hunted.
“Idon’tlike this, Brielle.”
She smiles back, knowing better. “Youdo. But you’re not ready to admit it. Not after Jon David. And that’s okay.”
The table goes quiet. Tension winds tight, stretching between us.
Brielle’s voice drops, soaked in mischief. “Honestly? The best revenge on Jon David would be letting some gorgeous psycho ruin you in bed.”
Marissa frowns. “That’s not revenge. That would be putting herself in danger.”
Eden meets her gaze. “True revenge is refusing to break. It’s owning your story instead of letting him write the next chapter.”
Brielle’s eyes blaze. “Moving on and getting the best fuck of your life is revenge too, the kind that makes him irrelevant.”
Marissa tilts her head, and her voice cuts. “But is it revenge if what he wanted was someone with a dick? Does that still count?”
Brielle lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Marissa. That was savage, even for you.”
Savage. But true.
The words sting because they cut close to something I haven’t said out loud.
Eden reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Whatever you need, we’ve got your back.”
Brunch winds down. We linger over the last bites of brioche French toast and drain what’s left of our drinks. We push our plates aside, and our laughter fades to murmurs.
