Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
It makes me angry, in a quiet way. Because Salem deserves to be just another girl walking under string lights. Not a girl who has to look over her shoulder. We weave down a side street, then another. I watch reflections in windows. I glance in parked cars’ mirrors.
Salem stays close, her breath shallow. “I don’t like this,” she whispers.
“I know,” I answer.
Her voice trembles. “What if they’re angry? What if—”
I stop walking abruptly and turn her gently by the shoulders, forcing her to face me. Salem’s eyes flash up, wide with fear. I keep my voice low, firm. “We don’t spiral.”
Her lips part.
I press my forehead lightly to hers for a second, grounding us both. “We handle what’s in front of us. Right now, that’s getting you back safe.” My heart pounds. The need to keep her safe is overwhelming.
Salem nods, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
“You with me?”
“Yes.”
I pull back and scan the street again. Still no van, no creeping headlights, no slow roll past the intersection. We keep moving. Ten minutes pass. Nothing.
My instincts ease slightly, but I don’t trust the quiet. I don’t trust any clean exit. Eventually we loop back toward the SUV. We come at it from a different direction, watching the lot first.
The street’s clear, and my pulse steadies. Still, I make Salem stop behind a storefront window while I scan the entire block. Then we move. Fast but not frantic. We get into the SUV, doors locked instantly, engine on.
Salem’s hands shake as she buckles.
“You okay?” I ask.
She swallows. “No.”
I nod once. “Fair.” I pull out slowly, blending with traffic. Then I start the pattern. Two rights. A left. Back past the same intersection. A loop. A circle. Checking. Watching.
If someone follows, they’ll either stay with us or break off. We make three loops. By the time we’re back on the rural road toward Rainmaker, Salem’s shoulders finally drop a fraction. But my grip on the wheel stays tight. Because if that van was nothing, fine. If it wasn’t nothing—then someone is sniffing around. And that means we have less time than I wanted.
Rainmaker comes into view, lights low, silent and waiting like it’s holding its breath. I pull into the driveway, kill the engine, and immediately scan the tree line. Nothing. Still, I don’t relax.
I usher Salem inside first, locking the door behind her. “Go,” I order gently. “Make some tea. And then cozy on the couch with a blanket.”
Salem hesitates. “Ozzy—”
“Go,” I repeat, not harsh—just firm.
She nods and moves toward the kitchen, her steps tight and quick.
I do my sweep. Front windows: secure. Back door: locked. Cams: normal. There’s zero movement and I try to exhale. I check the hidden panel where the comm gear is stored. Everything’s intact. Then I check the driveway on the cameras again—zooming, panning, scanning for any headlights lingering where they shouldn’t. Nothing.
My pulse doesn’t slow. Because my body doesn’t know how to believe “nothing” anymore.
I head to the kitchen. Salem sits at the table with a blanket around her shoulders, mug in both hands like she’s trying to anchor herself.
Her eyes lift to me, searching. “Was it real?”
I sit across from her, close enough to touch if she needs it, and I keep my voice steady. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But it felt wrong.”
Salem nods slowly, lips pressed together. “Okay.”
I reach for my phone and step into the hall for privacy, turning my back slightly so Salem doesn’t worry. Then I call Arrow.
He picks up immediately. “Talk to me.”
“It might be nothing,” I say, “but I got a bad read in Magnolia Ridge. White van parked weird at the edge of the lot near Atta Boy Brewery. Felt like surveillance.”
Arrow’s voice goes sharper. “Did it follow you?”
“I didn’t let it,” I answer. “We walked in circles. Took the long way. I didn’t see it again.”
“Good,” Arrow says. “Any plates?”
“No,” I admit. “Didn’t want to look too hard and tip it.”
Arrow exhales. “Okay. I’ll flag it. I’ll tell Rae to watch for any reports—local cams, traffic, anything. You back at Rainmaker?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Safehouse is secure. No pings.”
“Keep her inside tonight,” Arrow orders. “No more town until we know.”
My jaw tightens. “Copy.”
Arrow pauses. “Ozzy.”
“Yeah?”
“You did good,” he says quietly. “Calling it early is why we’re still alive.”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
“And Ozzy,” Arrow adds, tone softer, “if Salem gets spooked… remind her we can move you. Maddox Security has other safehouses.”
“I will,” I say.
I hang up and stand in the hallway for a second, staring at the dark window like I can see threats through it. Then I go back to Salem.
She watches my face like she’s trying to read the outcome.
I soften my expression deliberately. “Arrow’s having Rae check it,” I say, keeping it simple. “We’re staying in tonight.”
Salem nods, but I can see the fear still sitting behind her eyes.