“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replies dryly.
I snort. Delilah hands him the notebook. He scans it quickly, his expression tightening with each entry.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “These aren’t tourists.”
My stomach drops, even though I already knew the answer.
“Rogues?” I ask.
“Most likely,” he confirms.
Brooke exhales slowly. “Using the crowd as cover.”
“Smart,” Conrad says. “Harder to track. Harder to confront without causing panic.”
My mind races.
“So they can just… walk around town? Like this is normal?”
“For now,” he says.
“That’s insane.”
“That’s strategy,” he corrects.
I hate that he’s right.
“They’re gathering information,” he continues. “Layout. Numbers. Response time.”
“Same thing Archer found in the forest,” I say.
Conrad’s gaze sharpens.
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
He nods once.
“Then it lines up,” he says. “Inside and outside. Coordinated.”
That word again. Coordinated. Not random. Not chaotic. Planned.
“Which means they’re closer than we thought,” I say quietly.
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No softening. Just truth.
The bell above the door jingles again. All four of us go still. Instinct. Immediate. Sharp. A man steps inside, alone this time. Mid-thirties, maybe. Casual clothes. Relaxed posture. But his eyes?—
His eyes move too quickly. Clocking exits. Measuring distance. Calculating. I don’t look at Conrad. I don’t look at Delilah. I don’t need to. We all see it.
“Afternoon,” I say, my voice steady as I step forward.
He glances at me, offering a polite smile.
“Hey.”
