The information had come unexpectedly—a careless whisper, a throwaway comment from someone who had no idea what they’d handed me.
Evie needed air. She needed space. She was taking her bike out.
And that was all I needed.
I drove without hesitation, the city melting behind me in a blur of neon and asphalt.
The closer I got, the more calm I felt. Centered.
This was right.
I killed my headlights as I neared the turnoff, parking a few streets down. No taillights. No engine noise. She wouldn’t see me coming.
Her bike sat in the alley behind Sweet Haven Cafe. Cute.
She still didn’t get it.
There was no such thing as smart enough.
I stepped out of the car, heart steady, pulse even.
I had waited. I had been patient.
And now?
Now I was done waiting.
I moved through the shadows, deliberate and silent. Every step placed exactly where it needed to be. My breath slow. Controlled.
I knew Evie.
She wasn’t running because she was scared.
She was running because she was pissed.
Her emotions made her reckless. I had seen it before—watched her storm off, seething, her hands in fists at her sides, her jaw tight, her eyes sharp with too much fucking defiance.
And now she was right here.
Standing near the back entrance of the cafe, arms crossed, weight shifted onto one leg. Head tilted up toward the sky like she was contemplating something deep.
I wondered what it was.
Would she be thinking about me in a few minutes?
She had no idea she wasn’t alone.
I crept forward, close enough to see her exhale sharply, shifting her weight, rubbing a hand along her wrist. She felt it.
Good.
I wanted her to feel it.
That prickle at the back of her neck. That twist in her gut. That deep, ancient knowing that something wasn’t right.
Her body recognized the threat. Her brain hadn’t caught up yet.
I took another step.
