Chapter 8
The key slides into the third and final deadbolt lock with a satisfying click. I jiggle the handle twice, confirming the door is secure, before dropping the keys into my jacket pocket.
Lena waits at the end of the hallway, her purple backpack hanging from one shoulder, scrolling through her phone.
“Ready?” I ask, adjusting the tool bag slung across my body.
“Yep.” She pockets her phone. “Ironclad today?”
“Yeah. Got a lock replacement job in Rockhaven.” I push the down arrow for the elevator to see if it’s been fixed yet. The button sticks under my finger, a small annoyance that’s become part of our daily routine.
“Ugh.” Lena pushes through the stairwell door, her footsteps echoing in the concrete chamber. “When is Mr. Nguyen going to fix the elevator? It’s been two weeks.”
“Budget cuts.” I follow her down, staying close enough to catch her if she stumbles but not so close that I crowd her.
As we exit the building, the morning air hits us, cold enough for our breath to form small clouds in front of our faces. We had gotten ready early enough to walk today, saving on bus fare, and the stop next to her school will save me one transfer.
Lena pulls her scarf higher, covering her mouth and nose as we set off toward school. The sky hangs gray and heavy with rain clouds, though it holds off for now.
“Did you bring your umbrella?” I scan the street as we walk, noting the usual characters.
All normal. Nothing out of place.
“In my backpack.” Lena kicks at a crushed soda can, sending it skittering across the sidewalk. “Are you working late tonight?”
“I should be home by eight tonight.” I calculate dinner options as we walk. “Pasta with fried eggs?”
“And bacon?”
“If there’s enough left.” We’d stretched the package Rowan bought out over the weekend, savoring the unexpected treat.
A car alarm blares two blocks over, the sound bouncing between brick buildings. My muscles tense until I identify the source as not a threat and force my shoulders to relax.
Lena chatters about her upcoming history test, her words creating small puffs in the cold air. The sidewalk narrows as we pass a construction site, forcing us to walk single file.
The neighborhood wakes around us, shutters rolling up on corner stores, delivery trucks double-parking to unload, and crossing guards taking up their positions at busy intersections. Brickwell might not be much, but it has its rhythms, predictable as a heartbeat once you learn to read them.
“Did you take your suppressants?” I ask, though I already checked the punched-out foil sleeve in the bathroom this morning.
“Yes, Ash.” Lena rolls her eyes, the exaggeration visible above her scarf. “Did you?”
“Like clockwork.” I realize I’m being overprotective, but after what happened, I won’t drop the ball again.
We turn the corner onto James Street, joining the stream of students flowing toward the sprawling brick building of Ridgeway Public High. The security guard at the front gate tips his chin at me, a small acknowledgment earned over years of walking Lena to school.
“Text me when you finish with your study group.” I adjust her scarf, tucking a loose end into her collar. “I’ll meet you at the bus stop if I finish early.”
“I know the drill.” She steps back, creating space between us. “I’m sixteen, not six.”
“Humor me.”
Her sigh creates another cloud before it dissipates between us. “Fine. But only because you got stabbed before.”
“That was years ago.” I tap the strap of her backpack. “And it was only a scratch.”
“Still counts.” She turns toward the school, but pauses. “Oh, and tell your boyfriend I said hi if you meet up today.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “He’s not my—”
But she’s already gone, swallowed by the crowd of students surging toward the entrance. I stay rooted to the spot, watching until she disappears through the double doors.
Only when she’s inside do I turn away, my shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch as I exhale.
The bus stop lies four blocks east. I need to catch the eight-fifteen if I’m going to make it to Rockhaven by nine. My stride lengthens as I calculate minutes and distance, the math keeping me grounded as I navigate the morning foot traffic.
A black car rolls up beside me, engine purring like a well-oiled machine. I can’t make out who is inside past the tinted windows, which can’t be legal.
The passenger side slides down, revealing Rowan behind the wheel, his dark hair pushed back from his forehead, his mouth curved in a half-smile that does bad things to my stomach.
I scowl at him as I mark the timing. He came from the direction of the apartment. I haven’t seen him since I kicked him out of our place on Friday. Did he wake up early to stalk us?
“Morning, precious.” Rowan’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Let me take you out to breakfast?”
My traitorous body responds with a flood of heat to my gut that I stamp out with ruthless determination. I won’t give in to his allure again.
“No.” I keep walking, forcing him to idle the car alongside me. “I have a job across town.”
“Rockhaven, right?” He shifts the car into park, blocking a fire hydrant without concern. “Big houses, big tips.”
Cold spikes through me, different from, but no less intense, than the heat his presence generates. “How did you—”
“You told your sister at breakfast last Friday.” Rowan leans across the passenger seat, his shirt pulling tight across his shoulders. “Remember?”
Right. Of course. Just information I’d shared, not evidence he’s bugged our place.
“Well, I need to catch a bus.” I step around a pile of soggy leaves, the bus stop visible at the end of the block.
“I’m heading in the same direction.” Rowan pops open the passenger door, the interior light illuminating leather seats and a clean dashboard. “Save yourself the fare. I’ll swing through a drive-thru on the way.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl, loud enough for him to hear, and his smile widens in victory.
“No detour.” He holds up three fingers. “No obligation. Just food and transportation. Efficient, right?”
I glare at how accurately he’s read me, targeting the exact pressure points needed to bypass my defenses.
I grip the strap of my tool bag tighter, as if it’s my resolve I’m holding on to. “I need to be there by nine.”
“Plenty of time.” Rowan taps the clock on his dashboard. “Twenty-two minutes with traffic. Less if you stop deliberating and climb in.”
A bus rumbles past, belching black smoke that hangs in the air. The next one will be crowded with commuters, thick with body heat, and the press of strangers. The fare is two dollars to reach Rockhaven, which could be turned into a loaf of bread or a bag of beans.
“Last chance, precious.” Rowan pats the passenger seat. “The light’s about to change.”
My fingernails tap my thigh as I calculate. The equation is simple and the answer obvious. With how much work I missed last week, pride costs too much.
I slide into the passenger seat, the leather cool beneath my jeans. The door closes with a solid thunk, blocking out the noise of the city.
“Seatbelt,” Rowan says, pulling away from the curb before I settle all the way.
The interior carries the scent of leather and the subtle Alpha pheromones that cling to Rowan’s skin.
Heat blows around my legs, thawing the chill lodged deep during the walk.
“There’s a place on the way to Rockhaven with decent breakfast sandwiches.” He navigates traffic with easy confidence. “Unless you want something else?”
My stomach tightens at the thought of hot food. “Works for me.”
Fifteen minutes later, we pull into a drive-thru line, third car back. The menu board flickers with breakfast specials and prices high enough to turn me away if I were paying.
Rowan rolls down his window as we reach the speaker box.
“Two number threes,” he orders without asking what I want. “Extra bacon on both. Large coffee, black, and…” He turns to me. “Drink?”
“Coffee. Milk, no sugar.” The order sounds as if someone else is speaking. I never order extras. Never spend money on preferences when necessities eat up every dollar.
Rowan finishes the order and pulls forward to the window.
I stare at my tool bag between my feet, focusing on the wear pattern of the fabric rather than watching him pay. The exchange of money creates a debt, an imbalance in our already complicated dynamic. But the math remains simple. Time saved, money saved, and energy preserved for the job ahead.
Steam rises from the paper bags when opened, carrying the promise of salt, grease, and protein.
Rowan passes a wrapped sandwich to me without comment, placing the drinks in the cup holders between us.
I unwrap the paper, and the first bite hits my system like a drug, my body recognizing real calories after too many days of quick, cheap meals snatched between shifts.
“Good?” Rowan asks, already halfway through his own sandwich.
I grunt, mouth too full for words. The egg is real, not the reconstituted powder most fast-food places use. The bacon crunches between my teeth, releasing salt and fat onto my tongue.
Rowan drives with one hand, navigating morning traffic while eating.
“What kind of lock work do you have today?” he asks after I finish the first half of my sandwich.
I take a sip of coffee, considering how much to share. “Replacement job. Old money house with old money problems.”
“Security upgrade?”
“No. The matriarch locked herself out too many times. They want a digital keypad installed. The one they chose has a monitoring system.” I shrug. “Not my business to ask why.”
Rowan’s lip quirks up. “I’m sure it’s all above board.”
I lick the grease from my lips. “Don’t care so long as they pay.”
“Practical,” he says. “You ever worked on a safe?”
“A few times.” I reach into the bag for the hash brown bites. “They’re fun. Takes a bit more work. Usually pays better.”
“You enjoy the work?”
I shrug again. “It’s a job.”