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The man follows my gaze. His hand drops to the dog’s head, fingers threading into fur in a way that’s intimate without being soft.

“She listens,” he claims. “When it matters.” That’s not really an answer, and I shift my weight, suddenly aware of how close he still is. Aware of the way his eyes flick—not to my face, but to my mouth—then back up again. Why is he doing that?

Heat flares low and unwelcome, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. And I especially don’t like the fact that he notices. I adjust the strap again, checking the zipper out of habit. It’s closed. Secure. My laptop sits right where it should, yet my fingers fidget at it regardless.

“You’re in a hurry,” he finally says.

It’s not a question.

“I’m done here,” I reply. “So yeah.” Yet this guy still doesn’t move, but neither do I. He stands anchored, rooted to the spot like a trophy on a stand. His posture’s immaculate, and he barely shifts his weight, and I hate that my body reacts before my mind shuts it down.

“I’m Dante, by the way.”

“I’m Adrian,” I articulate, yet stoic as ever. Amusement flickers across his golden-boy eyes, unfazed by my incompetence in this useless conversation.

“And this good girl is World Ender.” His grin deepens, nudging his head to the dog who still has its puppy eyes fixated on me.

A scoff escapes me as I look at the dog, then back to Dante, ready for him to tell me the dog’s real name… oh, that is the dog’s real name.

I stare back at the fluff ball of golden fur, tender pants and soft brown eyes.

“That’s one hell of a name for such an innocent thing,” I reply, arching a brow.

Dante bends to scratch behind World Ender’s ear, and for a fleeting second, I catch the way his muscles tense and relax.

“I should probably get going before your dog decides I’m worth following home,” I add with a quip just to end my own suffering already, as I force my eyes away.

He laughs, loosening his shoulders. “She’s got good taste, what can I say?” And before I have time to register his words, Dante and his not-so-scary dog, regardless of her name, move past me.

“By the way,” he says, stopping at my side. I don’t mean to look up, but I do anyway. His face is mere inches away from mine as his arm brushes against my shoulder. Dante’s gaze cuts over me once with a clean, deliberate assessment.

“I like your jacket,” he chimes. “It suits you.” And he continues walking.

My what?

I stand there longer than necessary, irritation tightening in my chest, sharp and unwelcome. Of all the things he could’ve noticed- my eyes, the bag, the way I hold myself… that’s what he chose? My fucking jacket.

I tug at the sleeve without realizing it, like adjusting the fabric might undo the fact that he saw me wearing it. Like it might erase the moment he looked at me and meant something by it. And that’s when I make another mistake. Last crucial one for the already disastrous day.

I look back at him, eyes darting towards his right leg. Another habit I picked up.

The man and his dog disappear into the crowd with a comfortable jog, and I’m left standing here like an orphan left on someone’s porch.

I continue my way back to my apartment building as the street hums around me with car engines idling, a cat meowing in an alleyway, and the faint thrum of music leaking from a nearby bar.

As I near my apartment building, my phone buzzes in my pocket. My grip on the laptop bag’s strap loosens as I reach into the pocket of my jeans. The screen lights up, and it’s a message from Lucas.

Lucas: “Hey Fucker. You in for a couple of beers and a live band Friday night? Amani’s in btw.”

Chapter 5

Dante

I don’t tolerate witnesses, and I don’t tolerate mistakes. Yet somehow, I let this one slip.

The way he reacted to the corpse of my victim was fascinating. The way his body stilled and his hands flexed had me hooked. The way tranquility washed over him as he reached out to sink his fingers into my victim's blood. And I couldn’t wait to sink my blade into his neck just as I did with Xavier.

Xavier’s plus-one wasn’t meant to be there, of course. He wandered into the middle of a finished thing and made it messy by existing within the premises.