Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hudson
The early morning air was sharp and cold as I stepped out of the apartment. A light frost coated the edges of the sidewalk, crunching softly under my boots. For most people, mornings like this would feel quiet and serene—a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world. But for me, they were a reminder to stay alert.
I scanned the parking lot as I made my way to the truck, my eyes moving automatically over the cars. Most of them were familiar—the same sedans and minivans I’d seen parked there for months. But one car stood out: a dark sedan tucked into a corner near the lot’s edge. The windows were heavily tinted, and the plates weren’t local. It hadn’t been there yesterday.
I stopped, my keys dangling from my hand as I studied it. There was no obvious reason to think it didn’t belong. People had visitors all the time, and this was an apartment complex, not a private neighborhood. But something about it felt... off. Maybe it was the way it was positioned, half-hidden in the shadows, or maybe it was just my gut screaming at me that something wasn’t right.
I lingered a moment longer, then shook my head and climbed into the truck. I couldn’t let paranoia run my life—not now, not when things were finally starting to settle. But as I started the engine and pulled out of the lot, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching.
By the time I got back from running errands, the sedan was gone, but the unease hadn’t left me. I parked the truck and grabbed the bags from the passenger seat, my eyes scanning the lot again as I walked toward the apartment. Nothing looked out of place, but that didn’t stop the knot in my stomach from tightening.
Inside, the familiar sound of Naomi humming greeted me. She was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner, her hair tied up in a loose bun. The sight of her there, so calm and relaxed, made my chest tighten. This was what I wanted for her—for us. Peace. Safety. A life where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder every second of the day.
“Hey,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “How was the store?”
“Crowded,” I said, setting the bags on the counter. “Didn’t miss much.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You hate grocery shopping.”
“Not my favorite,” I admitted, leaning against the counter as I watched her work. “But you make it worth it.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she rolled her eyes, but I caught the small smile she tried to hide. “Charmer.”
“Always,” I said, grinning.
For a moment, the tension in my chest eased, replaced by the warmth of her smile. But it didn’t last. The memory of the sedan, the flicker of movement I thought I’d seen in the lot earlier, lingered at the back of my mind.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I found myself standing by the window, the curtains pulled back just enough to give me a view of the street below. Naomi was in the shower, the faint sound of water running in the background, and the apartment felt quiet—too quiet.
I scanned the street, my eyes moving from one parked car to the next. Most of them were familiar, but my gaze kept drifting to the spaces near the lot’s edge. It was empty now, but the image of the sedan was burned into my mind.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I straightened, my muscles tensing. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there—a shadow slipping between two cars near the edge of the building. My hand instinctively went to the bat I kept near the door.
I didn’t call out. Instead, I moved toward the door quietly, my heart pounding as I stepped outside. The cool night air hit me, and I shivered, more from adrenaline than the cold. The streetlights cast long shadows across the lot, and the faint hum of traffic in the distance was the only sound.
I approached the area where I’d seen the movement, my steps slow and deliberate. The shadows seemed to stretch and shift, playing tricks on my eyes, but there was no mistaking the faint scuff marks near one of the cars. Someone had been here.
“Who’s there?” I called, my voice low but firm.
The lot was silent.
I stepped closer, scanning the space between the cars. My grip on the bat tightened, but the area was empty. Whoever had been here was gone now.
When I returned to the apartment, the shower had stopped, and Naomi was sitting on the couch, a towel wrapped around her shoulders as she scrolled through her phone. She looked up when I walked in, her brow furrowing slightly.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, setting the bat down by the door. “Thought I heard something outside. It was nothing.”
Her eyes lingered on me, searching for a moment before she nodded. “Dinner’s ready when you are.”
“Thanks,” I said, managing a small smile as I joined her at the table.
We ate in relative silence, Naomi chatting occasionally about the recipes she wanted to try or the road trip ideas we’d jotted down earlier. I responded when I could, but my mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the day. The car. The shadow. The faint scuff marks. It all felt too coincidental.
Later that night, as Naomi slept soundly beside me, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. The sounds of the city were distant, muffled, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t as alone as we seemed.
I glanced at Naomi, her face peaceful in sleep, and my chest tightened. She’d come so far, worked so hard to reclaim her sense of safety and self-worth. I didn’t want to take that away from her—not unless I was absolutely sure the danger was real.
But deep down, I knew it was. The Fold wasn’t finished. Jared wasn’t finished. And as much as I wanted to believe we’d escaped their reach, the signs were there, clear as day.
It was probably nothing. At least, that’s what I told myself.
But I didn’t believe it.