24. Make Me Forget #2
He watches me warily, as if he’s trying to figure out why I’m showing him this.
I take a breath, steadying my voice. “Spence, I need you to promise me something, okay? If you ever see this man—anywhere, at school, at the park—you tell an adult right away. A teacher, a police officer, anyone you trust. And if he ever tries to talk to you, you do not, under any circumstances, go with him. Understand?”
His face goes serious, green eyes locking on mine. “Okay, Mom. I promise.”
I exhale and sweep my fingers through his curls. “Good. That’s my boy.”
“Is this the man that’s been watching us?” he asks.
I hesitate, not wanting to frighten him more than I have to. “Yes, baby. But Matt and his team are on it. They know who he is, and they’re going to catch him.”
Spencer nods, trying to take it in. Worry still flickers behind his eyes. He folds himself into me, arms tight, and I hold him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. I hate that I even have to have this conversation with him.
Later that night, I sit Harper down in the living room and FaceTime Declan. He answers on the first ring—his familiar face bright on the screen from his cramped New York City dorm. My chest tightens.
Harper sprawls on the couch, half-distracted by her phone. “What’s up?” she asks, barely looking up.
“I need to talk to you both,” I say, voice steady but firm. “It’s about your father.”
Harper’s head snaps up. Declan’s face hardens on the screen. “What about him?” he asks.
I take a breath. “About why he went to prison.”
Declan’s jaw tightens. “You said it was drugs.”
“I did.” My stomach twists. “But there was more to it.”
Harper’s grip tightens on her phone. Declan leans forward, forearms braced on his knees.
“He hurt you, didn’t he?” Harper whispers.
I nod, keeping my voice even. “I ended up in the hospital. He went to prison.”
Harper goes pale; Declan’s features harden into something close to fury. “What did he do to you?” Declan snaps, venom in his tone.
I close my eyes for a second before meeting his. “I’m not ready to tell you that yet,” I say honestly. “Maybe one day. Right now, this is all you need to know.”
Harper looks like she’s about to cry. Declan is unraveling. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he demands, raw.
“I didn’t want you carrying this, Dec,” I say. “He’s your father.”
Declan looks away, jaw tight. Harper swallows, knuckles white around her phone. “Why are you telling us now?” she asks.
“Because he was paroled early,” I say, my voice controlled but strained. “And we have confirmation that he’s behind what’s been happening.”
Harper exhales shakily. “What? Are you sure?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Why is he doing this?” Declan asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“I’m coming home,” Declan says abruptly.
“Declan, no.” I shake my head. “It’s safer for you there.”
“I don’t care,” he snaps. “I need to be there.”
I fight the urge to beg him not to do anything reckless. “We have round-the-clock security,” I say. “We’re talking expert snipers, burly guys who play with knives, and super-spies that could kill a man with their thumb.”
Harper lets out a short, ironic laugh, but Declan’s jaw stays locked, unconvinced. It isn’t until Matt takes the phone from my hands, his voice low and steady, that the tension in my son’s shoulders eases.
“I won’t let him get near them, Declan. I swear on my life.”
Only then does Declan finally—reluctantly—accept it.
***
If we thought security at the house was tight before, once Darren is identified as the threat, it becomes impenetrable.
Outdoor patrols are no longer enough. Knowing the level of violence he’s capable of—and that home invasion is likely his endgame—we adapt.
Round-the-clock, in-home protection is now our reality.
Someone from Alpha Team is always here—twelve-hour shifts: 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. Matt rotates in every three days, and even on his off days, he rarely leaves. Bishop, Steele, Hale, Demo, and Brooks split the rest, making sure the kids and I are never unprotected.
We don’t leave the house unless absolutely necessary.
The only exception is school—and even that is locked down.
Whoever is on shift escorts me for both drop-offs and pick-ups.
Steele has upgraded the systems at Harper and Spencer’s schools, installing facial recognition software that will instantly flag Darren if he sets foot on campus.
District police, school resource officers, and all administrative staff have been briefed and given Darren’s photo. If he’s spotted anywhere near the schools, he’ll be apprehended immediately.
We carry panic buttons on us at all times. One press, and the alert goes straight to Aegis and local authorities. My phone has been modified, too—Steele installed a tracking program that only Matt, Bishop, and Steele can access.
At home, the security system is hard-wired into HQ. Any breach attempt triggers an immediate response.
***
On Diego’s first shift, he presents me with a push dagger—small, discreet, a curved handle that fits perfectly in my palm. He flips it once, then hands it to me, handle first. It’s beautiful. And terrifying.
“Easiest blade to use in close quarters,” he says, calm and clinical. “You don’t slash with this—you punch. Straight in, straight out. Minimal effort, maximum damage.”
I run my thumb along the smooth grip, the weight foreign but oddly steadying. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask.
Diego cuts me off. “Here—let me show you.” He scans the room, then snaps his fingers. “Mason, get over here.”
Matt, who’s been leaning against the counter watching us with amusement, arches a brow. “What exactly am I volunteering for?”
“Human target. Shut up and stand still.” Diego’s tone is dramatic, but there’s no joke in the way he moves.
Matt snorts and pushes off the counter, sliding in front of me. “Alright, babe. Try not to stab me for real, yeah?”
Diego positions my wrist, settling the dagger in my hand. “Okay, Princesa. If some asshole gets in your space—” He guides my hand, pressing the tip lightly against Matt’s lower ribs. “Here. Punch in, twist, pull out. Fast. Hard.”
Matt glances down where the blade sits against his skin and grins. “Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”
Diego groans. “Bro—can you not? I’m trying to teach her to kill someone, and you’re over here flirting.”
I bite back a smile and roll my eyes. “Focus, Matty.”
Matt holds up his hands in surrender, chuckling, but there’s something deeper in his expression—pride. Approval. Maybe even admiration.
Diego shifts my hand higher, placing the blade just beneath Matt’s collarbone. “Here will drop them fast—collapses the lung.”
Matt smirks. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
Diego chuckles, shaking his head before guiding my hand lower, right to the side of Matt’s neck. “And this? This is game over. Fast and messy, but effective.”
Matt nods, voice suddenly serious. “If you ever have to use it, babe, make it count.”
I exhale shakily, fingers tightening around the handle.
Diego’s voice softens. “I know this isn’t something you want to think about. But if it ever comes down to it, I want you to be ready.”
I meet Matt’s gaze, bracing for worry. But what I find instead is pride—maybe even relief. Like he’s reassuring himself that if the worst happens, I won’t be defenseless.
That… means something.
I turn back to Diego and nod. “Okay. Show me again.”