“I’m going to her,” I say.
“I figured,” he replies.
I don’t wait for anything else. I don’t check in. Don’t regroup. Because right now?—
There’s only one priority.
I reach the bookstore faster than I should. Faster than is reasonable. But I don’t slow down. Don’t think. I push through the door hard enough that the bell slams against the frame.
“Tessa—”
She’s there. Behind the counter. Alive. Unhurt. Safe. Relief hits hard enough to make my knees weak for half a second. Then it’s gone. Replaced by something sharper. Something darker.
“You’re okay,” I say, crossing the room in two strides.
“I was never not okay,” she replies, brows lifting slightly. “What’s going on?”
I scan the space quickly. Doors. Windows. Sightlines. No immediate threat. But that doesn’t mean anything.
“Someone was watching this place,” I say.
Her expression shifts.
“I figured,” she says.
I stop.
“Youfigured?”
She gestures toward a notebook on the counter.
“I’ve been keeping track,” she says.
I follow her gaze. Flip it open. Notes. Descriptions. Times. Patterns. My frustration pauses. Just for a second. Because this?—
This is useful.
“You’ve been doing this all morning?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Without hesitation. Without apology. Of course she has.
“She’s right,” Delilah says from near the window. “We’ve seen unfamiliar faces.”
I look up. Brooke’s near the door. Conrad just behind her. They’re all here. All watching.
All reinforcing. Good. But not enough.
“They’ve been mapping our patrols,” I say. “Planning something coordinated.”
Tessa’s grip tightens slightly on the counter.
“How bad?” she asks.
“Bad,” I reply.
No point softening it. Because she’s not someone who needs that.
