I look up at him and drop the grin entirely.
“You don’t take pictures of her,” I say evenly. “You don’t report on her. You don’t confirm anything about her.”
He shakes his head quickly. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“That’s the problem,” I say. “You already did.”
I delete the thread.
Block the number.
Then I open his cloud storage and wipe the backup folder just to be thorough.
I get to have that information, not him.
When I finally hand the phone back, I don’t shove it.
“You’re going to walk away,” I tell him. “You’re going to forget you ever stood on this sidewalk. And if I see you within a block of her again…”
I let the sentence trail off.
He understands.
His voice comes out small. “You don’t own her.”
I step in one last inch.
“No,” I say quietly. “But you don’t get to treat her like she’s public property either.”
A beat.
“Get out of here. And don’t ever point that at her again.”
His eyes dart nervously, but I’m already moving away, heading back inside before he even has a chance to say another word. He doesn’t follow me, which is good. This is Coyote Glen. I make sure it stays that way.
I walk back in to find Aurora watching me, brow furrowed in surprise.
I nod to the door. “He’s gone. He won’t be back.”
Her eyes flicker with relief. “Who was that?”
I take a step toward her. “Someone who won’t be bothering you anymore.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I can see it, the way she’s trying to make sense of things that don’t need to make sense.
“Please don’t argue with me on this.” My voice is firm, and I don’t care that I sound intense. Not right now.
A beat of silence passes, and I watch her carefully, the way she’s still fighting to keep her walls up.
Finally, she nods.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
I know she doesn’t want to need me. I know she’s not the kind of woman to rely on anyone. But right now, I’m here. And if she lets me, I’ll make damn sure no one touches her again.
The Hollow always sounds different when we’re closing.
Less laughter. More echo.
