Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I loaded the groceries into the backseat and slid into the driver’s seat, feeling the fatigue settle into my bones again. But there was something comforting about the bags in the back—like the first step to getting back into my own rhythm.
The roads home were lit in a golden wash of headlights and storefront glow, busy but not chaotic. Still, for some reason, as I passed the turn for the library, I glanced up at the rearview mirror.
Nothing drew my eyes there—no sound, no motion—just instinct. And even then, I wasn’t sure what I expected to see. Headlights, obviously, plenty of them. It was the after-work rush, and everyone had the same idea: get what you need, get home, shut the door.
But something about the mirror made me stare a second too long. My hands stayed on the wheel, but my gut gave a little twist. It wasn’t panic, not yet, just that subtle shift in your chest when something you can’t quite name slides into your awareness.
I told myself it was nothing, just a long day and my brain catching Roque’s nervous energy and twisting it into shadows.
Still, I adjusted the mirror again and kept checking it.
When I turned onto my street, the groceries were sliding around in the back seat with every gentle curve. My house waited at the end, the porch light casting a soft glow across the steps. It looked peaceful and normal, like nothing bad had ever touched it—like nothing ever would.
At the last second, Roque’s voice echoed in my mind, telling me to pull into the garage tonight, so I turned the wheel, easing up the driveway.
To my surprise, the garage door groaned to life immediately, rising with a mechanical hum. The thing hadn’t worked properly in months. I’d half-expected it to sputter, blink, then give up like it usually did. But it hadn’t, and what waited behind it nearly made me laugh.
The chaos I’d left in there—boxes of God-knows-what shoved wherever they’d fit during the renovation—had been organized and stacked neatly against the back wall like it had been inventoried, possibly even categorized.
Whoever Roque had brought in to do this either had obsessive-compulsive tendencies or was a borderline psychopath. Maybe both.
I pulled in slowly, glancing around like I’d just entered someone else’s garage. The door behind me rumbled closed automatically, making me flinch in my seat.
I got out, grabbed my bag, and reached for groceries when an arm slid around my waist in the dark.
I nearly screamed.
A hand, warm and gentle, covered my mouth before the panic could break loose.
“It’s me,” Roque whispered, breath brushing my ear. “You’re okay.”
I twisted in his arms and kissed him, the relief hitting like a second heartbeat. Then I pulled back just enough to hiss, “You scared the shit out of me.”
A noise behind us—something shifting near the back of the garage—made me jump again.
Roque kept his hand on my waist. “It’s just Judd,” he said calmly. “He’s checking over your car. Don’t panic.”
I blinked, still trying to recalibrate. “Should I be panicking?”
“Not if we stay ahead of it,” he said ominously. Then his voice dropped into something softer but no less serious. “I’m putting a tracker in your car. I need your phone, the sneakers you wear to work, and anything else you always have on you. We’re tagging everything.”
I didn’t argue. I reached into my coat pocket and handed over my phone without hesitation. “You’re not getting the shoes yet, though. I’m wearing them into the house. It’s cold, and my feet hurt.”
He smirked and brushed a kiss on my temple. “Just go through the side door and act normal. We’ll meet you inside in five.”
I gave him a look. “Normal?”
He arched a brow. “Like you didn’t nearly punch me in the garage.”
I rolled my eyes but turned, grabbing the groceries and slipping out the side door into the cool night air. Even with adrenaline humming through my blood, I trusted them, and whatever was going on, I knew I wasn’t walking into it alone.
I slipped through the side door, groceries cradled in my arms and used my elbow to hit the lights. The hallway lit up with a comforting glow. I crossed to the front room and pulled the wooden blinds shut, one by one. It was part of my routine—lights on, blinds closed—keeping the warmth in and the outside world out. That counted as ‘normal,’ right? But as I moved into the kitchen, something felt off.
I stepped through the doorway—and froze. Four people were standing in my kitchen.
I smacked a hand over my mouth to muffle the scream that nearly launched itself from my throat and almost dropped the damn milk.
Roque, Judd, a woman I didn’t know, and another man watched me with amusement. I stared at them, my heart thudding like it wanted out of my chest.