Page 49 of Protect Thy Enemy

Alyssa’s got a soft spot for old memorabilia, so when she asked for them in exchange for a favor, I didn’t hesitate.

She walks over, gloved hands carefully picking them up. “You know, these are a hell of a lot more valuable than the favor I’m doing for you,” she mutters, examining one of the cards.

“That’s why I threw in a few extras,” I respond dryly.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. Her focus shifts to the file she places on my table. The manila folder, thick and sealed, feels like a brick in the room. It sits there, daring me to open it. But I don’t.

Alyssa notices. She watches me for a second before saying, “You’re not going to look at it?”

“Not yet.” My answer is flat and noncommittal even though the question nags at me.Nightwalker. It could open a can of worms I’m not sure I want to deal with, especially given Harris’s reaction earlier. “Might be more trouble than it’s worth.”

Alyssa scoffs, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Right. Because you’re the type to leave things alone.” She fixes her coat, preparing to leave. “But suit yourself, Holden. Just don’t take too long. Information like that doesn’t sit well with people who know it exists.”

She starts toward the door, and for a moment, it’s like nothing’s changed between us. No matter how many times she walks out of my place, I always wonder what the hell she’s getting into. Who else does she provide “information” to, and if she’d ever sell me out.

But Alyssa’s good at what she does, and she’s never given me a reason to doubt her.

“Thanks,” I mutter, though she never responds.

She waves me off without a word, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

I glance at the file again, the itch to open it nagging at the back of my mind. But I don’t. Not now.

Instead, I grab my gym bag and head out. If I sit here any longer, I’ll start overthinking it, and that never leads anywhere good.

The gym feels heavier tonight as if the walls are holding their breath. I came here for the quiet, for the steady rhythm of fists hitting leather to drown out everything else.

But she’s here.

Arden stands near the lockers, her head bent as she wraps her hands with practiced precision.

Her skin glistens faintly under the fluorescent lights, and I catch the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she tightens the tape.

I shouldn’t notice these things. I shouldn’t notice her.

“Williams,” I say, my voice cutting through the quiet.

She looks up, her eyes narrowing slightly before her expression smooths into something neutral. “Grant.”

“Trainer gone?” I ask, nodding toward the empty ring.

“Family emergency,” she replies, tugging the wrap tighter. Her movements are efficient, but the tension in her shoulders wasn’t there earlier today during training.

“You done for the night?”

Her hesitation is brief but telling. “I was about to head out.”

I step closer, my voice low. “Don’t.”

She blinks, the faintest trace of confusion crossing her face.

“Spar with me,” I say, the challenge in my tone deliberate.

Her brows lift, surprise painting every inch of her face. “With you?”

“Unless you’re afraid,” I add, letting the words linger in the charged air between us.

Her jaw tightens, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. She doesn’t like being baited, but she hates backing down even more.

---