Chapter 2
TWO
DON’T MIND ME, JUST RUINING HIS NIGHT
LARK
I really should be arrested for how much fun I’m having right now.
Not because I’m committing a crime—technically speaking, no laws were broken tonight—but because I’m currently perched on the edge of a neighboring rooftop, eating a Pop-Tart, and watching Knight Hayes spiral.
And oh, what a spiral it is.
His shoulders are too tense. His jaw’s doing that thing like he’s chewing invisible glass. And the second his burner buzzes with the video I just sent?
Boom.
He spins like someone dropped a grenade in his lap.
“Irritated Knight” is my favorite Knight.
“Feral Knight” is a close second.
I kick my booted feet over the edge of the roof, still in full black-out gear—ripped jeans, tactical vest, smudged eyeliner like war paint. My lavender hair’s tied up, my gloves are on, and my lipstick matches my heart… pitch black.
Because I do what I want.
Especially when it involves him.
Knight Hayes—the uptight vigilante with a control fetish and a mouth like a Molotov cocktail. I’ve been shadowing his little “justice missions” for a few weeks now. Quietly. Carefully.
At first it was just for kicks. I mean, who wouldn’t want to sneak around and watch a grumpy data monkey moonlight as a DIY Batman?
But then it got interesting.
Because the deeper I followed? The more I realized Knight was hiding something.
No, not something.
Everything.
Passwords. Firewall layers. Secret mission logs he doesn’t even share with Arrow. Which, rude. I thought they were besties.
And worst of all? He acts like I’m still the kid who used to draw hearts around his name on my school notebooks.
Spoiler alert, jackass: I’m not.
I’m not your friend’s little sister anymore.
I’m not watching from the sidelines.
And I’m not here to be sweet.
I’m here to play.
And he? He’s the prize.
I zoom in with my handheld camcorder—retro, yes, but untraceable—and capture the last few seconds of Knight talking to Dunn in the booth.
God, he’s hot when he’s furious.
Not that I’d ever tell him that.
I keep my cam on Knight as he strides toward his car. The streetlights cut sharp shadows across his face—angular and dark and pinched with frustration. He’s saying something to Arrow and typing with unnecessary force.
Someone’s grumpy.
I hit send.
: [Attachment: Video File]
Caption: Your backdoor encryption sucks, Hayes. Try harder.
It takes exactly seven seconds for Knight to freeze mid-type and check his phone.
And then? The expression.
Chef’s kiss.
He looks around like he can sense me watching.
He’s right.
I press my fingers to my lips and blow a kiss to the wind. “Don’t worry, Knight,” I whisper. “You’ll see me soon.”
After all, I know where he lives.
And I just hacked his Netflix account.
A girl’s gotta start somewhere.