10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
The Wraith
The lock gives at the end of my pick in less than ten seconds.
I twist the doorknob and push it open. How fucking disappointing.
If you’re going to invite strangers into your house, at least make them work for it.
I slip into the house and shut the door behind me. Earlier, I double-checked, ensuring no security system was in place. Only open Wi-Fi and a guy who apparently thinks single locks on his doors count as home defense.
I make my way through the threshold. It’s dark inside the hallways. Perfect. The darkness welcomes me.
As I approach the front of the house, a blue glow of a television spills across the living room. The volume low.
I pause. Who leaves their TV on when they leave the house? Then I hear it. Snoring. Loud enough to rattle the windows.
Fuck. Of course.
He’s here, and he’s fucking asleep.
Reese will never let me live this down.
I didn’t see his car parked outside, so I assumed he wasn’t home.
Nope, he’s here. Passed the fuck out on the couch.
I stand there listening to him snore. It’s impressive, honestly. I’ve heard chainsaws make less noise. The guy sounds like he’s trying to inhale the entire room.
I glance toward the television. Some late-night infomercial is playing. An air fryer? The idiot fell asleep watching an air fryer commercial on the QVC network.
As soon as I get the feed up, Reese is going to see what’s going on.
A man spends years building a reputation. Years becoming a ghost. Years perfecting infiltration techniques. And tonight I’m breaking into the home of a shirtless gym bro who’s passed out from watching QVC.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why am I being this careless? I’m always on top of my shit.
I know why. It’s her. She’s in my head.
Earlier tonight, I was at Lina’s bakery pretending to work while Reese sent over everything he’d managed to dig up on EJ after his text.
You won’t see it coming, baby.
The fuck? Baby? Fuck this guy.
I went through everything. Phone records. Employment history. Public records. Social media.
His social media content is, of course, painfully unoriginal. Nothing but selfies at the gym. Shirtless to show off his abs. Some with pant legs rolled up to show off his muscular thighs. Some selfies in his construction gear like it’s a costume. All typical fuck-boy bullshit.
The guy is so boring Reese managed to summarize his entire life in two pages.
EJ’s file read exactly like the man I see before me: predictable, underdeveloped, coasting on genetics and entitlement.
No real work history outside his father’s company. No college. A couple of minor drug arrests. Nothing that suggests forethought or discipline, other than working out.
He lives in the moment. He chases pleasure. He doesn’t plan beyond the next hit of dopamine. Gym bros like him don’t choose danger over indulgence.
I was halfway through reviewing his whole life when Lina emerged from the kitchen.
The moment I realized on paper that the target wasn’t a threat, my eyes locked with Lina.
For weeks, all I’ve really seen of her while stationed there at the bakery are fleeting glimpses through the small window that separates the kitchen from the front counter.
Lina spends most of her time in the kitchen, tucked away behind mixers, trays, and clouds of flour. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her laughing at something Val says. Sometimes she’s bent over a notebook, scribbling down recipes. Other times, she’s dancing to music only she can hear.
The first few weeks, I’d leave the shop around seven. Lately, I’ve been finding reasons to stay longer. A few extra minutes. One more cup of coffee. One more overheard conversation with Val. Anything for the chance of catching another glimpse of Lina. Just once.
The Wraith sees more of Lina than Alex does.
At night, from the shadows, The Wraith makes sure she gets home safely. Makes sure the lights go off. Makes sure she’s tucked away behind locked doors before disappearing into the darkness again.
But Alex? Alex is lucky if he catches her through a bakery window.
As soon as Lina walked up to Kay, I saw the effect I had on her. She seemed nervous.
I watched and listened, using a compact directional microphone to amplify conversations that would’ve otherwise been lost beneath the hum of the espresso machine and quiet chatter.
I listened as Kay schemed with Lina. “And while you’re at it, maybe get his name? And, oh, I don’t know…his number?” Kay suggested.
I smiled into my coffee while taking a sip.
A few minutes later, Lina appeared as if she’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass than approach my table. The opportunity for mischief was impossible to ignore.
Though, I honestly didn’t need the amplifier to hear the conversation. Kay made it more than obvious they were talking about me when she pointed at me. Her voice carried through the empty bookstore with the little scheme at work. I wasn’t mad at Kay for it; I actually wanted to thank her for it.
The memory of it all still makes me grin.
She’d turned bright red. Started rambling. Oversharing. Backtracking. Somehow saying too much and not enough simultaneously.
It was adorable. And God help me, I don’t usually find anything adorable.
But the encounter was a mistake. I’m not supposed to interact with the people I’m assigned to. I’m supposed to stay hidden. Observe. Collect information. Neutralize threats.
The principal should never know I’m there. That’s how it’s always works.
The Wraith would’ve stayed hidden. He would’ve gathered what he needed, and walked away without ever being noticed. Professional. Disciplined. Invisible.
Instead, I listened to Kay practically announce her matchmaking scheme to the entire bookstore and somehow convinced myself I needed to get involved.
The Wraith would’ve ignored it. Alex—the dumbass—couldn’t stand another minute of being unnoticed.
So when Lina walked over, terrified. I made the worst possible decision. I smiled. And then I talked to her. I made contact when contact is supposed to be forbidden.
I scoff quietly at the memory.
I move deeper into EJ’s house, using the snoring as my indicator that it’s safe to proceed. I take one room at a time, but I need to be quick, clean, and easy.
The plan is to install cameras and audio equipment as I go. Enough to determine whether the “surprise” is candles and arrogance—or something sharp, chemical, or permanent.
Not that I think this asshole is smart enough to plan anything lethal. But that doesn’t matter.
The moment Lina became a variable in the equation, the risk became unacceptable.
Because if something happens to Lina, there won’t be a corner of this city dark enough to hide the man responsible.
First his bedroom. I dig through everything in his room. Nothing unusual jumps out at me.
There are no hidden weapons. No stacks of cash. No burner phones. No evidence of criminal activity whatsoever. Only a drawer full of condoms, lube, and protein bars.
I did find a box on the top shelf of his closet that I could smell before I opened it. It was full of fucking weed. Rolled joints. Weed rolled in bags. Vapes. Gummies. The guy likes to get lit.
Then the dining room. Nothing. Just gym equipment, protein powder, workout supplements, and protein bars.
Lastly, the kitchen. I open a drawer, and it’s filled with protein bars. Another drawer. More protein bars. The pantry—a storage bin with more fucking protein bars.
What kind of psychopath has this amount of fucking protein bars?
I begin checking the expiration dates.
Why am I checking the expiration dates?
I don’t fucking know. At this point I’m committed.
And what do you know, half of them are expired. The man can’t even manage his protein bar responsibly.
Jesus Christ.
Does this guy eat anything else?
How about some actual fucking protein? Like chicken, you dumbass.
By the time I’m back in the living room, I’m convinced Reese did his research well. EJ isn’t a threat. He’s an overgrown teenager with a gym membership and a marijuana habit.
I glare at the idiot sprawled out on the couch wearing only sweatpants with a half-eaten protein bar sitting on his bare chest.
The television lights flash across his face, and I sneer at him with disgust.
This is the guy? The guy Lina spent weeks sexting? The guy who thought sending shirtless mirror selfies counted as flirting?
I examine him more thoroughly and regret it. The asshole is objectively attractive.
I hate him far more now. The man has enough muscle definition to be used in an anatomy textbook.
Though I’m bigger and carry just as much muscle definition, the bastard is still attractive. And knowing Lina plans to fuck this guy tonight makes my jaw tighten hard enough to crack a tooth.
The more I learn about him, the less I understand what Lina sees.
Maybe that’s the jealousy talking. It’s definitely the jealousy talking.
Why the fuck am I jealous?
I don’t care. I’m allowed a little irrationality. I’ve spent weeks watching her smile, listening to her laugh. Trying to come up with excuses to stay at the bakery longer than necessary.
Meanwhile, this idiot manages to get her attention by taking his shirt off and discovering the front-facing camera. It’s offensive, really, and I’m fully annoyed.
I spent hours combing through everything I could find on him, expecting something to surface. Maybe even hoping to find something so I can take the fucker out.
Instead, I found a stoner passed out on a couch.
I mutter and curse myself as I finish positioning the last camera over the couch and check the feed on my phone.
Living room, check. Kitchen, check. Front entry, check
Perfect. Mission accomplished.
I turn towards the exit and halt when I hear…
“Dude.”
All the muscles in my body tighten as I brace myself and turn around.
Fuck. EJ is awake. Well, sort of. His eyes are half-open. The lights are on, but nobody’s really home.
He’s staring directly at me. Or, maybe slightly to my left. Hard to tell.
I say nothing. I only stand there facing him, arms crossed, waiting for the alarm to set in.
EJ squints. “Am I dreaming?”
I catch my reflection in the mirror leaning against the wall to my right.
Black tactical gear. Body armor. Gloves. Hood and Mask. Any normal person would be terrified.
“Yeah, asshole. You’re dreaming.” The voice adapter wraps my words in a low, sinister distortion that raises the hairs on the back of most people’s necks.
“Your voice is wicked, man.” He chuckles.
My head instinctively tilts. What the fuck?
This idiot must be really fucking high.
A long silence passes. Then he points at me.
“Dude.”
I wait.
“Your mask is fucking scary.”
A laugh escapes me involuntarily. The voice adapter turns it into something straight out of a horror movie, and it echoes through the room.
EJ’s eyes widen. “Whoa.”
“Higher than a kite,” I mutter.
“Yeah, man.” He chuckles.
“Go back to sleep, dipshit,” I command.
He squints and then closes his eyes. “Alright,” he says.
The idiot drops his head back onto the couch, and three seconds later he’s snoring again. Just like that.
I scowl. I’ve infiltrated cartel compounds that required more effort than this.
I make my way to the door. Before stepping outside, I glance back one last time.
The protein bar remains on EJ’s bare chest while drool runs down the side of his face.
I sigh. Lina has terrible taste in men.