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I pour the syrup liberally over my stack of pancakes, determined to find some comfort in the familiar sweetness. "Well, damn, I might just pack a bottle for when we have to head back to LA. Could use a little magic on the road."
Axel's chuckle warms me more than the coffee I'm nursing, but even his light mood can't ease the tension coiled tight in his shoulders—the same tension that's been my unwanted shadow since the stalker decided I'm his favorite plaything.
The bell above the diner door jingles and I glance up, my gaze flitting between faces. Locals mostly, with smiles as warm as the golden sunlight spilling through the windows. It's funny how a place can feel like home even when you've only known it for a few days. Maybe it's just the contrast to the usual whirlwind of my life on tour. Here in Pine Haven, I can breathe. Or at least, I could until...
Axel's hand suddenly covers mine, squeezing tight enough to still me. "Don't look now, but we've got trouble," he murmurs, eyes locked on something beyond my shoulder.
I turn slightly, my heart thudding against my ribs as I spot it—a folded piece of paper weighed down by the salt shaker, stark against the checkered tablecloth. It wasn't there a minute ago; I'm sure of it.
His hand still over mine, Axel picks up the note with his other hand and unfolds it with care that doesn't match his casual demeanor. He reads silently, and I watch his jaw twitch—a telltale sign he's about to go into full-on protector mode.
"Let me see." My voice is firmer than I feel as I reach for the note. Axel hesitates but relents.
In looping cursive that chills my blood, it reads:
Even in paradise, you can't hide from me.
I drop the note like it's on fire. "He found us," I whisper, disbelief and fear tangling with anger in my gut.
Axel's blue eyes meet mine, and there's a storm brewing in them. "We're not going to let this bastard win," he says with conviction that almost makes me believe him.
The cozy clatter of dishes and low hum of conversation around us suddenly feels alien, intrusive. The diner is no longer just a diner—it's a stage where the stalker has decided to make his presence known.
I take a shaky breath and push away my plate; food is tasteless now anyway. "What do we do?"
Axel is already on his feet, scanning the room like he can spot our invisible menace hiding among the locals indulging in their morning coffee fix. "First things first," he says with controlled urgency, "we're getting out of here. We need to update Sheriff Grace on the new development.”
He tosses some bills onto the table—far too many for two breakfasts and coffee—and offers me his hand. I take it without hesitation because right now, Axel Creed is more than just my bodyguard—he's my lifeline in this twisted game of hide and seek, where being found could mean losing everything.
The bell above the door of the sheriff's office rings with a kind of irony as we step in—like we're entering a sitcom set where the laugh track's about to kick in. But no one's laughing, least of all me, wrapped in this ridiculous blanket that makes me look like an escapee from the world's most paranoid cult.
Sheriff Grace Thompson stands from behind her desk, all crisp uniform and no-nonsense eyes that have probably seen more backwater brawls than Hollywood has paparazzi. "Sasha, Axel," she nods, ushering us to sit. "Let's catch this son of a bitch."
I try for a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. "That's the plan, Sheriff. I'm not exactly thrilled about being Stalker Victim of the Month."
Grace doesn't miss a beat. "Well, we aim to make your stay here less... eventful." She spreads out a map on her desk, her finger tracing routes and landmarks like she's planning a surprise party rather than discussing how to keep me from being surprise-attacked.
Axel leans forward, all business now. "We need to double down on patrols around the safe house. And maybe throw in some decoy moves, just to shake things up."
I can't help but notice how his hand hovers near my shoulder—close enough to be comforting without actually touching. Always the protector.
"Already on it," Grace replies, her eyes flicking up to meet Axel's with a glint of steel I can't help but respect.
I let out a sigh that rattles around in my chest before finding its way out. "Great, so while you two are playing cops and robbers, I'll just... knit a sweater or something."
Axel shoots me a look that's half exasperation, half concern. "You know it's not like that."
"Yeah," I quip back, despite the ice clawing up my spine at every creak and whisper in this room. "Just wish I could do more than sit pretty and wait for the stalker to pop out with a 'Gotcha!'"
"You're doing plenty by staying safe," Grace says firmly. "And we're going to use every resource we have to end this."
Axel finally rests his hand on my shoulder, a small touch that sends strength coursing through me like I've just plugged into a power grid.
"Thanks, Grace," he says with genuine respect.
"And thank you for the blanket," I add with an attempt at levity. "Though next time, maybe go for something less... grandma chic?"
A ghost of a smile flits across Grace's face before she turns back to her maps and plans—a commander gearing up for battle.
