Chapter 4
She scanned the room, then headed straight for the reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar.
The man in the hoodie didn’t notice her at first. He was still watching the back door, waiting for the real Rayna to reappear.
But when she passed the mirrored surface, something changed.
His gaze flickered, eyes narrowing, then widening, before his head jerked slightly to the side to recheck her table.
Rayna's reflection in the mirror smiled at him, giving him a cheery, overly enthusiastic grin and finger-wave. Her real self, just out of view, smirked.
The man blinked. His head tilted slightly, trying to process what he was seeing: the same woman three times.
One physically walking past him, another in the mirror, and still another sitting at a table, flirting with a gentleman.
He froze for a second, then slowly turned his head to follow her, clearly trying to work out whether he was seeing things or if she might be one of identical triplets.
“Blink twice if you’re stalking us,” Rayna said, her voice a low hum, aimed directly at the man’s ear as she stood behind him.
As he turned, she headed back out the door, disappearing into the street with a satisfied smirk.
She didn’t even have to look behind her to know he was following. Some men couldn’t resist a mystery, and this one clearly thought he was Sherlock with a dash of Jason Bourne. Unfortunately for him, Rayna was playing a whole other game.
She kept her pace casual, touristy, even pausing at a street vendor’s cart to examine a rack of sunglasses that had been there since the Bush administration. She picked up a pair with oversized lenses and pink frames shaped like cat ears, slid them on, then looked back.
There he was. Hoodie. Newsboy cap. Trying not to look like he was tailing her, which somehow made it worse. His gait was too even, his hands shoved too purposefully in his pockets, like he’d read How To Be Inconspicuous and skipped straight to the diagrams.
Her comms crackled again. “Update?” Michael asked.
Rayna didn’t move her lips. “He took the bait. Following me now. Heading east on Fifth. I’m going to loop around to the mural. Meet me there.”
“Copy. We’re in position. Daniel’s contemplating ambush-by-trash-can.”
“Tell him to hold that thought.”
She dropped the sunglasses back on the rack. “Too subtle,” she muttered and turned the corner.
The Einstein mural loomed ahead, somehow more disturbing in daylight. His eyes practically followed her. Beneath their gaze, Michael and Daniel leaned against the brick wall, trying to look like they belonged in this fever dream of a back alley.
Rayna slipped between them. “He’s about ten seconds behind me,” she said, already peeling off her coat. “Let’s see how fast he runs when he knows he’s outnumbered.”
“You want dramatic or efficient?” Michael asked.
“I want both,” Rayna replied. “This outfit is way too cute for subtlety.”
She turned just as their follower rounded the corner, slowing when he spotted her standing there, flanked by two very large, very not-smiley men.
His eyes widened.
Rayna waved again, this time without the mirror. “Hi, stalker.”
The guy’s posture straightened, and he stopped cold, like someone had unplugged his thought mid-sentence.
“Uh oh,” Daniel muttered, cracking his knuckles. “That’s the face of a man who just realized he fucked up.”
The guy bolted.
And Rayna, of course, chased.
“Why do they always run?” she called back, heels clicking fast against the pavement.
Michael sighed. “Because you’re terrifying.”
Daniel was already speeding up to keep pace with her. “Because they’re dumb.”
Rayna smiled. “This is the part I like most.”
He sprinted like his sneakers were on fire, dodging a group of tourists taking selfies in front of a hot dog cart with loaded hot dogs.
Rayna followed, weaving through the crowd like she was born to it, which, to be fair, she kind of was.
She vaulted a pile of trash bags without losing speed, passed a woman arguing on speakerphone in front of a nail salon, and made eye contact with a dog in a baby stroller.
The dog was judging her. Not as severely as a cat would, but she really didn’t care either way.
The perp took a sharp left onto 6th, nearly tripping over a toddler with an ice cream cone. Rayna ducked under a construction scaffold, snatched a caution sign mid-stride, and flung it sideways. It skidded under his feet. He yelped and flailed but stayed upright.
“Slippery when stupid,” she muttered.
Behind her, Michael shouted, “Can I throw something next?”
Daniel yelled, “Focus!”
They passed a mime. An actual mime. White face paint, striped shirt, glass box routine. He locked eyes with Rayna and gave her a silent thumbs-up. She returned it, then passed him.
The guy was tiring now, arms pumping with all the desperation of a man who’d made just one more terrible life choice. His hoodie had dark sweat patches. His lungs heaved. And still, Rayna wasn’t even breathing hard.
She wasn’t just chasing him. She was escorting him to his poor, exhausted, inevitable fate.
He finally skidded to a stop in front of an abandoned storefront, panting, hands on his knees. “Okay,” he gasped. “Okay, okay, okay…”
Rayna strolled up behind him, hands on her hips.
He turned, saw her there, and whimpered. “What are you?”
She tilted her head. “Oh, honey. We haven’t even started the questions yet.”
Heavy footfalls echoed behind her. Michael arrived first, then Daniel, who immediately grasped onto a mailbox like he needed it to stay upright.
A beat later, Major Payne strode onto the scene, crisp and clean and looking like he’d just stepped out of a military-themed recruitment poster.
He stopped next to Rayna, surveying the gasping man with pure disdain.
“You led him on a foot chase?” the Major said, voice low and dangerous.
“He led me on one,” Rayna corrected. “I just made it stylish.”
The Major looked at the man, who was wheezing like an accordion played by an Irish toddler. “You couldn’t outrun her?”
The man tried to speak. Failed. Tried again. “She’s… She’s not normal.”
“No,” Major Payne said dryly. “She’s not.”
Rayna beamed. “Aww, you noticed.”
He didn’t smile. Just crossed his arms.
Michael leaned in. “So… Do we interrogate him here, or take him back to the Batcave?”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Can we not call it the Batcave?”
Rayna said, “I vote for here. He’s too sweaty for enclosed spaces.”
The man groaned and tried to slump to the ground.
Major Payne stopped him with a single barked command: “Stay standing.”
The guy flinched and straightened. Barely.
Rayna turned to the Major. “So, do you want to do this the official way? Or the fun way?”
The Major didn’t answer right away. Just stared at their would-be tail, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, even on fire. Finally, he said, “Let’s start with why he followed you. Then we’ll decide how many bones he gets to keep.”
Rayna smiled sweetly. “See? I knew we were gonna have fun.”
The man stood crookedly, trying not to collapse, sweat dripping from his temples. He darted looks between the four of them. Michael was impassive, Daniel smiled in a way that didn’t bode well, Rayna looked like she was very much enjoying herself, and Major Payne exuded military-grade menace.
“You’ve got one shot to make this less painful,” the Major said. “Use it wisely.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. “I didn’t mean anything by it, okay? I was just watching.”
“From inside a restaurant,” Rayna said, arms crossed. “Where you weren’t eating.”
“Wearing a hat and a hoodie,” Daniel added. “Real subtle.”
“I didn’t… Look, I was just told to find out more about the… About the L—”
Rayna stepped forward so fast that he startled.
“About my chai order?” she said, voice syrupy and loud enough to cut him off before the letters ‘L.A.W.’ could land.
The mystery man’s mouth flapped open, confused.
“Because it’s a little unorthodox,” she continued, “but that’s not a reason to stalk a girl, is it?”
The man blinked at her. Then blinked at Major Payne. Then he seemed to realize he’d almost said something very stupid.
Rayna clapped him on the shoulder like they were old friends. “Anyway! I think that’s all we needed from him. I’ll take it from here.”
The Major’s eyes narrowed. “You’re taking him where?”
“Police station.” She shrugged, casually. “He followed me, not you. Since he’s my stalker, I’ll file the report. No need for you to waste your day off on this guy.”
The Major looked unconvinced. “He was surveilling an L.”
“A lady!” she said brightly. “A lady who happens to have friends in terrifyingly good shape.”
Major Payne stared at her for a beat longer, calculating. Then, finally, he relented. “Fine. But keep me posted.”
“Of course,” Rayna said, smiling like a liar with a plan.
Michael raised an eyebrow at her. “You sure you don’t want backup?”
“Sweet of you, but nah. If he tries anything, I’ll turn him into a lawn ornament.”
Daniel waved. “Tell the cops I said hi.”
“I’ll send them your playlist.”
She grabbed the man by the arm, firmly, and steered him out of the alley. He went without protest, maybe because he didn’t want to risk another encounter with Major Payne. Or maybe because Rayna’s grip said this is your only chance to keep your kneecaps.
They rounded the corner, out of sight.
The man finally dared to speak. “You’re not really taking me to the police, are you?”
Rayna’s smile sharpened. “Oh, good. You’re not as dumb as you look. No, we’re going somewhere much more interesting.”
After enchanting the Uber driver to forget this particular ride-share, Rayna led the perp up the path, flanked by thick woods that seemed almost intelligent. The L.A.W. mansion rose from the shadows like it had been carved out of the trees. The air here didn’t move. It watched.
“Nice house,” he muttered.
She smirked. “You should see the dungeon.”
The heavy oak doors creaked open before she touched them. The foyer lit up like it had been waiting for her, which, technically, it had. The L.A.W.’s security system didn’t run on electricity so much as recognition, mutual respect, and the occasional reinforcement spell.
She escorted him to the reception area, flicked her wrist, and the man’s legs gave out. He dropped into the tufted accent chair, which immediately sprouted glowing runes across its arms and legs.
He tried to stand and couldn’t. “What the hell?”
“Be a nice guest,” Rayna said sweetly. “Please remain seated.”
A beat later, Joell appeared at the top of the grand staircase, descending with the calm of someone who’d handled worse things before breakfast and wasn’t impressed by this one.
She wore tailored black slacks and a sleeveless white silk blouse, her medium brown hair swept up in a chignon that said I could choke you and still be perfectly groomed for tea. Her eyes gleamed with authority.
Rayna greeted her with a grin. “Joell, darling. We have company.”
“I can see that,” Joell replied, casting a withering look at the restrained man. “You always bring me such interesting subjects.”
“Leadership rotates quarterly. I’m just respecting the system.”
Joell exhaled sharply, folding her arms. “Report, please.”
Rayna filled her in. The staring, the glamour misdirect, the chase, and the man’s near-confession about being hired to investigate the L.A.W.
“I shut him up before Payne could hear,” Rayna said. “Didn’t want the Major going full scorched earth before we knew what we were dealing with.”
Joell’s brow lifted, just slightly. “Smart.”
Rayna smiled. “I’m trying something new.”
“I don’t like how obvious this guy was,” Joell said. “Either he’s bait, or someone underestimated us.”
“Exactly. So, I brought him home, to the chair.”
Joell gave a curt nod. “Let’s see what he knows.”
Rayna snapped her fingers. The runes hissed, and the chair released its grip. The man bolted upright, looking ready to make a run for it, until Rayna casually pressed her palm to his chest and shoved him back down like she was closing a trash can.
“Stand up, and this time you follow obediently like a well-trained pup told to heel,” she said, too pleasantly.
She steered him down the hall like she was giving a tour, only this tour ended in consequences. Joell opened the parlor doors, revealing deep velvet chairs, a roaring fire, and a sense that something unseen was already listening.
The man paused at the threshold. “This feels like a trap.”
Rayna grinned. “That’s because it is.”
She gave him a nudge into a high-backed chair, then slid into the one across from him with the air of someone who’d already won.
Joell took the seat beside her, crossing one leg over the other, tablet in hand, but not typing.
“Sunday. Subject, interrogation.” She just let the report type itself, which added to the ambiance of menace.
“So,” Rayna said, resting her chin on one hand, “Let’s talk about who sent you. And don’t lie. The furniture’s enchanted. It knows.”
As if on cue, the chair beneath him let out a low, guttural creak that sounded far too intentional.
The man flinched. “Okay, okay… Please don’t let it eat me.”
Rayna smiled.
Joell didn’t. “Start talking,” she said.