I closed the folder and pressed my palm flat on it, like I could steady the facts with pressure.
Outside, the bush shifted. A distant hoot. A soft huff, then the whisper of grass closing behind it. The world went on.
I stood and stepped outside, letting the night air hit my face. The stars out here were arrogant. Too bright. Too many. Thekind of sky that made city people fall silent and reach for meaning.
I didn't reach for meaning.
I listened.
The fence line was a dark thought beyond the trees. The bush suites lay three miles out, their lights faint on the ridge like grounded stars. One of those lights belonged to her.
She should have been asleep. She'd been running on tension since she arrived, and tension always demanded payment.
I'd seen it in her shoulders when she stepped out of the SUV. In the way she held herself like she expected an impact. In the way she tried to keep her humor contained, only letting it flash when she couldn't help it.
At least no one expected me to clap at wildlife.
I could still hear the line in my head, delivered like it wasn't anything, like she hadn't just made me want to laugh in front of people I was meant to be guarding. She'd said it to herself, more than to me.
A private thought that escaped.
That was what got under my skin. Not her polish. Not her money. Not her title.
The cracks.
The proof that she was human under the mask.
The radio crackled once. Static, brief, then a clear voice.
“Mercer.”
I lifted it, thumb pressing the button. “Go.”
“All quiet at the eastern boundary,” came the reply. “No further movement.”
“Copy,” I said. “Keep your spacing. Two-man rotation. Eyes on the gate.”
“Copy.”
The radio went quiet again.
I stood there a moment longer, letting the night settle on me like a weight I'd chosen.
Then I went back inside and picked up the file one last time.
Not because I needed to know more about her.
Because I was trying to decide what to do with what I already knew.
A guest who didn't belong with the rest. A woman who carried pressure like a second spine. Someone who watched the dark like she understood it could change the rules without warning.
The worst part?
I was curious.
I shouldn't have been.
Curiosity was dangerous. It made you fucking careless. It made you imagine a future that required you to want something.
