Lila shifts her weight. “Okay, cool. Love that for us.” She throws her hands up. “So what’s the move? Because my vote is still strongly in favor of coffee and aggressive denial.”
Cam’s jaw clenches, tension rippling across his face. “We lock it down. Strip it back. Rebuild the core.”
“No,”I say. All three of them turn to look at me. “If we retreat now, we confirm we felt it,” I continue, voice steady. “Whoever that was wanted us to know they’re here. If we panic now, we hand them leverage.” I push my chair back, standing. My legs feel steady. My voice does too. “We keep going. Same plan. Same pace. But now we assume we’re not alone in the room.”
Lila lets out a low whistle, eyes wide. “That’s… deeply unsettling.”
“Get used to it,” I tell her gently, but firmly. “This isn’t Wade. This is something else. And until we know exactly what, we don’t let it dictate our moves.”
Sterling steps closer, his voice dropping low enough that only I can hear. “You sure you’re okay?”
I meet his gaze and hold it. “I don’t know. I don’t remember everything,” I answer honestly. “But I know this much. Whatever just spoke to us doesn’t scare me the way it wants to.” Something unreadable flashes across his face—pride, worry, maybe both.
Cam snaps his laptop shut with sharp finality. “Then we treat it like a watcher, not an attacker. No engagement. No acknowledgment.”
“Exactly,” I say, a faint, cold smile tugging at my lips. “Let it get bored.”
Lila tilts her head like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You say that like we’re dealing with a raccoon that got into the trash, not whatever the hell just crawled inside our walls.” A small, tired laugh almost escapes me.
Sterling straightens, voice turning sharp and professional. “We proceed the same. Asher stays in the center frame. Wade stays blind. And whatever just knocked on our door doesn’t get invited in again.”
Cam nods once. “Agreed.” The moment shifts, not calmer but clearer.
Outside, the day keeps going as if nothing happened. Inside, we move again. Purpose clicks back into place—fingers returning to keys, screens flickering to life. But now there’s a new rule sitting between us, unspoken and heavy: We are being watched. And whoever it is…knows something we don’t.
Chapter Eighteen
By mid-afternoon, the house smells like scorched coffee and unfinished plans. Sunlight slants in through the kitchen windows at a harsh angle, reminding us how much time has slipped away. The clock claims it’s still early. My body disagrees. We’ve been awake too long, thinking too hard, sharpening something that could just as easily cut us open if we slip. Cam sits planted at the table like a man chained to his post, laptop glowing, fingers moving with obsessive precision. Lila is sprawled backward in her chair, chin on the backrest, watching him with the lazy patience of someone waiting for the bear to snap. And Kiera… she’s quiet. Not withdrawn. Not shaken. Just unnerving still—the silence of someone who has stopped asking why and has begun calculatinghow. I remain leaning against the counter, nursing a coffee that went cold hours ago. Watching. Protecting. But the air feels heavier now. Like the house itself is listening.
Cam finally breaks the rhythm, voice tight with urgency. “Next thread goes in after we eat. Make sure we don’t raise any flags.”
Kiera glances up at that, her lips twitching faintly. The expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s closer than it was this morning. Something in her has settled into place. And that’s what bothers me the most. Fear leaves residue. Trauma lingers. But this…this looks like alignment. Like a lock clicking shut. I don’t comment on it. There’s a newhum under everything now. From whatever we woke up the moment wepushed back. I feel it low in my chest, steady and persistent. And I know,with the certainty I don’t voice, that whatever comes next won’t wait for nightfall.
Cam barely finishes queuing the thread before his screen lights up. He stills. Not freezing, not panicking. Just…stops. “That was fast,” he says quietly.
My spine snaps rigidly. “How fast?”
Cam turns the laptop so we can all see. A timestamp blinking back at us like an accusation. Thirty-two seconds.
Lila sits up straighter. “Nope. Hard pass. Idon’tlike that. That’s horror-movie timing—the kind where everyone dies in the next ten minutes.”
Kiera leans in, eyes narrowing with cold focus. “He shouldn’t have seen it yet.”
“He shouldn’t havefeltit yet,” Cam snaps. “This was supposed to simmer, not fucking ring the dinner bell.”
My phone vibrates on the counter, cutting through the tension before Cam can say anything else. Once. Then again. Wade Hawthorne’s name fills the screen. I don’t answer it right away. Instead, I watch. The way her jaw tightens. The way her shoulders don’t slump. She’s not breaking; she's bracing, every line in her body coiled and ready. Like some part of her has been waiting for this exact moment.
“Answer it,” she says softly. Not a request.
I pick up the phone and step a few feet away, keeping my voice neutral as I accept the call. “Sterling,” Wade says immediately.Guess there’s no need for pleasantries. “We need to talk.”
“About?” I ask, already knowing exactly what he’s about to say.
“There’s movement,” he barks. “Someone’s poking places they shouldn’t even know exist.”
I glance back at the table, every nerve in my body lit up like a live wire. Cam’s fingers hover over the keyboard, ready. Lila’s usual psycho need to make light of everything has gone silent. Kiera hasn’t looked away from me once. “That’s what you hired me for,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You wanted the shadow, and now he’s making his presence known.”
A sharp exhale crackles on the other end. Anger barely contained. “This isn’t just movement,” Wade growls, his patience fraying at the edges. “There is familiarity about it. I’m not sure this is Asher.”Interesting words.