Eris
It’s late morning before we decide to leave the loft. Jace claims we’re out of milk, Silas insists on real coffee beans, and Kieran mutters something about being tired of the pantry looking like an abandoned bunker.
I don’t argue.
Sometimes normalcy looks like grocery lists and stolen glances across the front seat.
My new normal is Jace’s hand on the steering wheel, relaxed as he drives the few blocks to the grocery store.
It’s Silas scrolling through a notes app, already planning dinners for the next two weeks.
And it’s Kieran’s knee brushing mine every time the car stops, subtle and grounding as he sneaks sly looks my way.
The market downtown is one of those curated places with reclaimed wood shelves and soft jazz drifting from hidden speakers.
It’s disgustingly overpriced, nice enough to make visitors believe the Bay isn’t covered in blood.
Even the light feels expensive, but at least it’s busy enough to disappear in.
Jace and Silas peel off with a cart, already bickering over whether dinner requires fresh herbs or just the former’s ambition to avoid rosemary and oregano.
Kieran stays close, not exactly hovering. Just… there. A constant at my shoulder. He adjusts his glasses as he stares out the massive window at the front of the store.
I’m reaching for a bottle of cold brew when my instincts go tight.
I don’t know how Kieran catches the lurking before I do, but now we’re both locked onto my problem.
Across the fucking street.
Daniel leans against a lamppost as if it’s a casual coincidence he’s outside the store I’m shopping in, like he just happened to be here when we showed up.
He keeps his hands tucked in his pockets, as if he’s got all day to linger on the sidewalk, biding time until we leave.
He’s watching the entrance, the doors we just walked through…
It’s not me directly, but it’s too fucking close.
He isn’t staring.
He’s waiting.
My body fizzles as if my veins overflow with carbonation, restraint bubbling under my skin, ready to break free. He looks different from the last time I saw him. Cleaner and less desperate. Like someone who’s done his homework and wants absolute credit for it.
Daniel knows.
Not just that I’m here.
No… This motherfucker knows I’m not alone.
That I didn’t go home.
That I went somewhere else instead.
Daniel is getting smarter, and I don’t like it.
A month ago, I would’ve crossed the street and ended his life, and left him there bleeding out and alone. A problem solved with finality. The thought still curls warm at the base of my spine, familiar and tempting.
But now?
Now I have three men who filled my apartment with cameras and sensors and quiet, obsessive protection. Men who don’t flinch at violence. Who plan instead of reacting.
And I’m not mad about it.
But will my HimLock guys be the same with me after witnessing a murder?
After witnessing me murder someone.
Kieran steps in front of me, blocking my view as he studies my expression. “You saw him?”
“Yeah.”
“He followed us here.”
“Also, yes.” I don’t think he means for me to answer, but I do anyway.
His jaw tightens. “Do you want me to handle it?”
“Not here.” I shake my head once, though curiosity about his question crackles through my nerves. “Let him think we didn’t notice. Let him believe he’s clever.”
Kieran doesn’t like that. I feel it in the way his posture changes, the way his hands flex before he rolls his shoulders to loosen them.
“Daniel already knows you’re staying with us,” he says.
I smile faintly, though I figured as much with the idiot showing up here. “Good.”
He looks at me with obvious confusion on his face. “That will make him more dangerous.”
“No,” I say softly. “It’ll make him impatient.”
Kieran considers that as he takes the cold brew from my hand and sets it in our cart, like we’re just another couple arguing over caffeine.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, those green eyes boring into me as he steers us further down the aisle.
He sees everything.
I don’t lie.
“No,” I tell Kieran, my tone flat even though the corner of my mouth lifts in a crooked grin. “But I’m ready.”
I glance toward the window one more time, and across the street, Daniel shifts his weight from foot to foot, as if he can feel the charge in the air.
Like he senses my malevolence without being in my presence.
I’ll simmer in this feeling for a little longer while I plan out his murder. It should be as simple as picking out my favorite ice cream.