Roman nods once.
“That message wasn’t written for strangers,” he says. “Whoever sent it believes Maggie entering your life creates a problem.”
Violence rushes through my veins because he’s right. The wording alone makes that obvious now. Not stay away from Ivy, or stay away from the family.
You.
“She doesn’t belong to you,” I repeat quietly.
“Territorial language,” he confirms. “Emotional. Possessive. Men involved in route disputes don’t usually speak that way unless the conflict already became personal.”
I think about Enzo speaking Maggie’s name inside that restaurant tonight. The amusement in his face after realizing exactly how much she mattered to me already.
Fuck.
“They’re trying to drive her away,” I mutter.
“Yes.”
The single word cuts cleanly through the room, and suddenly the entire situation feels uglier than it did five minutes ago. Violence, I understand. Business pressure, I understand. But this? This feels intimate, targeted. Like someone watching from the shadows already decided Magnolia Hayes has no place inside my world.
16
MAGGIE
I’m so frustrated with the growing security around me that I nearly throw my phone across the shelter office after Alexei sends another vague text refusing to explain what’s actually happening.
Alexei: Be careful today.
That’s all he says. He doesn’t explain the strange men circling the shelter, or why unfamiliar cars keep showing up outside Mama’s diner. He doesn’t say why armed men, pretending to be regular people, appear every time I leave Second Chance Savannah.
Justbe careful.
I stare at the text while irritation burns through me hard enough to make my jaw ache. Outside the office window, the morning sunlight shines through the old oak trees lining the street while volunteers carry donation boxes through the front courtyard. Someone laughs near the kennels. Dogs bark loud enough to echo down the hallway.
On a good day, all this familiar noise would calm me right away. Today, every sound grates against my nerves. Even here, inside the shelter that’s always been my safe place, I don’t feel alone anymore.
“You keep glarin’ at that phone like it insulted your entire bloodline,” Jules says from the doorway.
I glance up to find him balancing two iced coffees in one hand while a clipboard rests beneath his arm.
“He refuses to answer me.”
“Oh honey, I could’ve told you that before caffeine.” Jules hands me a coffee before leaning one shoulder against the frame. “Men like Alexei don’t explain things until they absolutely have to.”
“That’s not comfortin’.”
Jules takes a long sip of his iced coffee. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
I take a sip of mine, letting the cold coffee cut through the frustration clawing at my chest. Then I glance out the office window again, and my irritation flares up. The same black SUV from yesterday is parked across the street under the hanging Spanish moss. It’s far enough away that most people wouldn’t notice, but close enough that I spot it right away.
Jules notices my expression change before I say anything. “Still there?”
“Mhmm.”
“Well bless their hearts,” he mutters. “At least they’re committed.”
The SUV pulls away almost right after, as if the driver knew we were watching. It makes my skin crawl. The problem is theconstant feeling of being watched without ever fully knowing which vehicles belong to Alexei and which belong to the people circling closer around us. Every unfamiliar face makes me wonder now, and every parked car catches my attention. And I’m getting real tired of feeling nervous in the one place that’s always felt safe to me.
