A slow smile pulled at the corner of my mouth, though there was nothing remotely amused in it.
“Then you call me again.”
“Understood.”
The line went dead a moment later.
I lowered the phone, holding it loosely in my hand for a moment longer before putting it away.. My thoughts were already moving ahead, circling back and replaying the details with increasing precision.
Someone had been watching her, following her, familiarizing themselves with her.
My hand tightened slightly at my side as a different line of thought began to take shape, slower, more deliberate, and infinitely more dangerous.
I wondered how long it would take him to understand. Not now, but later, when he realized — too late — he had been the one under observation all along. I tilted my head slightly, considering this scenario, which unfolded quietly in the back of my mind.
This wasn’t just about what he had done. It was about what he had presumed he could do.
The sense of entitlement.
The audacity.
The simple, unforgivable assumption that he could have her.
My jaw tightened again.
Soon.
The word settled heavily and firmly into place.
Soon, I would be free. I wouldn’t have to settle for second-hand reports and controlled restraint, which increasingly felt like a liability, nor would there be any distance between us.
Until then, she would be watched. Constantly.
And I’d make sure choosing her would be his last mistake.
After years of being locked up, one would think patience would be one of my strong suits. And it usually was. Just not today.
Ever since I received word of the message being delivered to her, I had secluded myself in my bunk with my phone clutched in my hand. She would follow the instructions. She fucking had to, or I’d lose my shit.
After seeing her, letters weren’t cutting it anymore. The need to access her, to immerse myself in her thoughts and life, had grown deep inside me, burning hot and mildly irritating.
Addy was too curious not to message me, but I also had a feeling she could also be stubborn. She had to know thiswas coming from me, or at least she had to be suspecting it.
Patience, I reminded myself. I hadn’t risen through the Bratva or secured my position in Blackwood by acting on impulse. I learned early on the most effective pressure was applied slowly and deliberately until the other party stopped resisting, without ever realizing it had happened.
The phone vibrated once in my hand.
Online.
I imagined her staring at the screen, weighing up her curiosity against her instinct for self-preservation and pretending these two instincts weren’t intimately familiar with one another. She was probably telling herself this didn’t mean anything yet. Telling herself opening the app was one thing, but speaking was another.
Telling herself she was still in control.
People always thought so right before they crossed a line.
The moment stretched as I waited, listening to the low murmur of the block, the distant clang of metal on concrete, the subtle shift of power coming with being watched and not interrupted.
There was no need to rush her, she’d already crossed the threshold. When I finally moved, it wasn’t impatience prompting it. It was the simple understanding that curiosity, once properly engaged, should be rewarded before it turns into second thoughts.