“Don’t tell me I pulled one over on you.” Monica let out a genuine laugh.
“I highly doubt that,” Kane snorted, playing along. Anything to keep her from crying again.
“If you’re heading to 545 River View, then I definitely did.” Pride crept into her voice. “I live at 64 Ross Road, Kentucky. You need to turn around.”
Instead of turning around, he pulled into the nearest parking lot and put the car in park. “Hold on,” he said, turning toward her. “That’s your old address.”
“On paper, yes,” Monica said quietly. “Mr. Cooper, my neighbor?—”
“The old dude?” Kane cut in, using Dena’s description from the night before.
“Yeah. Him.” A small smile flickered at the memory. “He’s a retired cop. I went to him for advice. He didn’t ask many questions; he just helped. And the deeper I got into all of this, the more involved he became. He made sure my home stayed a safe space.”
“You signed your property over to the old guy.” Kane didn’t ask the obvious; well, to him, it was obvious. He typed the new address into his phone and pulled back onto the road, heading in the opposite direction. Monica didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.
“I can give you directions,” she offered once they were moving again.
“Just relax. I’ve got it,” Kane said, stopping at a four-way.
Silence settled between them—heavy, but not uncomfortable. Rain tapped lightly against the windows, and Monica stared out at nothing. Kane didn’t push. He let her breathe, let her grieve.
Then her phone rang, slicing through the quiet. Digging through the bag at her feet, Monica pulled it out and checked. “Whatan asshole, piece of shit,” she snapped, tossing her still-ringing phone back into her bag.
“Who?” Kane asked, even though he had a damn good idea which piece of shit she meant.
“Farrar.” Monica hissed the name, shaking her head. “He knew I was burying my sister today. What is wrong with people?”
“I ask that question every single day,” Kane replied, tamping down the urge to find Neil Farrar and punch him in the face.
As they turned onto a gravel drive, a sense of calm settled over him. It was a kind of quiet that only came with places tucked away from the rest of the world. Through the lingering drizzle, he finally saw it. Monica’s house. A modest ranch with a wide porch that looked out over a big front yard. His gaze swept past it to the neighboring property, a house sitting closer to the tree line. Probably the old guy’s place, he figured.
Before he could ask, the front door opened, and a brown-and-black dog stepped out, standing stiff and alert, staring him down.
“Knox, I take it?” Kane nodded toward the dog, who didn’t so much as blink.
“Yes.” Monica smiled as she reached for her bag. She barely got her door open before whistling sharply, and that broke Knox’s stillness. The dog bolted across the yard, kicking up wet gravel as he barreled straight for her.
Kane noticed movement at the doorway again—the old man, watching, but not the dog or Monica. He was eyeing him, and Kane liked him already. He was protective of Monica, which meant that a retired cop would keep an eye out for trouble.
His attention went back to Knox, who was circling Monica wildly, tail whipping the air, but still cutting him a side-eye like he hadn’t been cleared yet.
“Friend,” Monica told the dog gently, and just like that, Knox stopped sizing Kane up and went all in on her—sniffing, whining, and practically vibrating with joy. “I’ve missed you, boy. Were you good for Mr. Cooper?” She squatted to his level, rubbing Knox’s ears before wrapping her arms around him.
“Yes, he was,” Mr. Cooper called out as he walked toward them. “Best roommate I’ve ever had.”
“Good,” Monica said, getting up to hug the older man. “Thank you for keeping him for me.”
“I wish I could’ve done more.” Theo Cooper’s gaze shifted to Kane as he stuck out a hand. “Theo Cooper.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Kane said, taking the offered handshake. “Kane.”
“Sorry, that was rude of me,” Monica winced.
“Nah, we men can introduce ourselves.” Theo gave her a fond look, then focused back on Kane. “And call me Theo, not sir. So... you’re him. The Warrior. Monica told me about you.”
“I’m sure she did,” Kane smirked as Monica’s cheeks flushed. “Actually, I’m a Dark Guardian. Not a Warrior.”
“Ah, so the rumors were true.” Theo crossed his arms, giving Kane a once-over that told him the man didn’t miss much. “A few of us on the force always figured there were others out there besides the Warriors.”