Reality sets in.
We gather our things, and slide out of the booth.
Marissa hugs me. “Call if anything seems off, day ornight.”
Eden kisses my cheek. “And don’t be too brave, okay? Even brave girls need backup sometimes.”
“I know.”
“Text us if he leaves another love note. Bonus points if it’s scented,” Brielle says, slipping on her sunglasses. “And when he turns out to be hot, unhinged,andyour soulmate, don’t forget who called it.”
“Brielle, you need to stop reading those damn stalker books.”
“Never,” she says. “And I have a list of favorites if you’re interested.”
“I’ll let you know.”
We part ways at the curb in a tangle of soft laughter. I walk to my car, unlock the door, and slide into the seat, fingers quick to lock it behind me.
Once I’m alone, I pull out my phone and open the photo Eden sent.
That reflection in the mirror pulls me in again. His face is only half visible, caught in a sliver of glass, veiled in shadow and suggestion.
But even grainy and distant, he radiates something I can’t name. Something that says more is hidden than shown.
I zoom in until the image fractures, each detail dissolving like it’s trying to hide.
He was right there. So close. Watching. Listening.
Unseen.
He followed me. And now... he feels closer than ever.
I don’t know what that makes him, but I know what it makes me.
Intrigued.
Chapter 9
Bastien Montclaire
Morning comes—early,quiet, cold.
And lonely. Always lonely.
But today, the world is better because Silas Rourke is gone. I sent him to hell—gift-wrapped and screaming—right where he belongs. That chapter is filed, sealed, and finished.
I did what I was paid to do. And I did it perfectly.
For Grant Holloway.
But more than that, for Lila Holloway.
The gloves are gone. My favorite knife is back in its drawer, the blade stripped clean and sterilized, waiting for its next assignment. My clothes are ashes, and the car has been scoured. No trace of last night remains—only silence and the satisfaction that comes with precision.
The coffee brews. Black—that’s how I take it. Dark as my soul.
I drink it on the back porch and watch the sun crawl over the horizon, but not for the light. For the silence and stillness.
