Page 67 of Protect Thy Enemy

The silence fills the car again, but it’s louder now, deafening and scratching at the edges of my resolve. I watch the road blur past, the tension between us coiling tighter with every second.

Against better judgment, my thoughts wander back to Gran. Her words replay in my mind, tangled with the faint tremor in her voice when she mentioned him.

Leo.Gran could easily be mistaking whoever this Leo is for someone else. I know I’ve asked him this already and that this is a long shot, but… something about how quick he was to dismiss the topic the first time makes my words tumble out of my lips without a second thought.

“Leo worked at the White House, didn’t he?” I ask, my voice cutting through the quiet like a shard of glass.

Grant’s jaw ticks, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Where’d you hear that?”

I keep my gaze fixed out the window, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “Does it matter?”

He exhales sharply like he’s trying to keep his temper in check. “You shouldn’t be asking about him.”Bingo.

Well, that’s not a denial.

I turn to look at him, searching for a crack in his armor, but his profile is carved from granite, his eyes locked on the road ahead. “Why not?”

“It’s not wise to chase ghosts,” he says, the bitterness in his tone slicing through the air.

Ghosts. The word lodges in my chest, cold and suffocating. “What does that mean?” Is Leo dead?No, Arden, don’t jump to conclusions yet.

“It means let it go.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to piece together the jagged edges of his words. “You’relying. You know Leo.”

He doesn’t flinch, but his grip on the wheel tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Rookie. Leave it alone.”

I shake my head, frustration simmering just beneath my skin. “You’re the one who sounds like you know more than you’re saying.”

His gaze flicks toward me, cold and sharp. “I saiddropit.”

The finality in his voice slams into me, but it’s not enough to quiet the unease creeping up my spine. Something isn’t right, but even I can see when I’ve lost. Plus, I don’t really feel like poking the bear any further.

Especially when I’m not sure he wouldn’t leave me and my fifty-two bags on the side of the highway.

I settle back into my seat, my fists clenching in my lap as I stare out the window. The word ghosts echoes in my mind, over and over, until the tension in the car feels like it might crack open the walls.

By the time we pull into the neighborhood, the sun has dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows over the neatly trimmed lawns and perfectly spaced driveways.

The houses all look the same, two stories, brick facades, and just enough personality to seem unique while blending into the suburban monotony.

The safe house is at the end of the cul-de-sac, tucked neatly between two identical homes. Grant parks in the driveway, cutting the engine with a sharp twist of the key.

“Out,” he mutters, his voice laced with irritation.

I’m not even surprised by his lack of manners at this point. I’m starting to think he was raised in a cave.

I step out of the SUV, stretching my legs and breathing in the crisp evening air. The neighborhood is quiet, almost eerily so, with only the distant sound of a dog barking somewhere down the street.

Grant moves to the back of the SUV, popping the trunk and hauling out my bags without so much as a glance in my direction.

“You don’t have to—” I start, but he shoots me a look that silences me instantly.

“Just open the door,” he says, his tone curt.

I walk up the driveway, pulling out the key Harris had handed me earlier, and unlock the front door. The house smells faintly of cleaning supplies, and the air is cool and still.

The living room is modest, with neutral-colored furniture and a few generic pieces of artwork hanging on the walls. It’s the kind of place designed to be forgettable, a perfect cover for people like us.

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