Page 75 of Protect Thy Enemy

I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t say anything at all.

It isn’t until we’ve been on the road for a while that I notice the car.

It’s subtle at first, headlights in the distance, keeping just far enough back to avoid suspicion. But the distance is toointentional, too precise. My eyes narrow, tracking the vehicle in the rearview mirror.

“We’ve got a tail,” I say quietly.

Arden stops tapping. “How long?”

“Since we left the pickup.”

She turns slightly, glancing over her shoulder, her movements careful. “Who do you think it is?”

“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

A second set of headlights flashes briefly in the side mirror. This one I recognize.

“Tate and Park,” I mutter. “They’re behind the tail.”

Arden’s brow furrows, and I can feel her unspoken questions pressing against me. But she doesn’t ask. Not now.

We approach the unmarked location, a nondescript warehouse on the edge of town. SUVs line the front, their blacked-out windows reflecting the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp. The air feels heavier here, charged with something unspoken.

I pull the car to a stop just short of the entrance, my hand instinctively brushing against the holster at my side.

“Stay in the car,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She tenses beside me, her eyes snapping to mine. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. Keep the car running.”

“But—”

“No.” I cut her off, my voice sharp. “If something happens, you leave. You don’t argue, and you don’t look back. Got it?”

She stares at me, frustration and something else flickering in her eyes. But after a moment, she exhales sharply, leaning back in her seat.

“Fine,” she says tightly, but I don’t believe her. I’ve seen that fierce determination in her eyes too many times before. It tells me that she’s not going anywhere if anything were to pop off.No, she’s going to run in, guns blazing. “But you better not get yourself killed.”

I don’t respond.

Fallon watches the exchange with a raised brow, but he doesn’t comment as I step out of the car. The cold night air bites at my skin, but I welcome the clarity it brings.

The man waiting by the warehouse door looks up as we approach. His gaze lands on me first, assessing, before sliding to Fallon. Then his eyes settle on the car, on Arden.

The windows are tinted, so I know he can’t see a thing, but I still don’t fucking like how his gaze lingers there.

The man’s voice dips low as he leans toward Fallon, but whatever he’s saying isn’t meant for my ears. I keep my distance, eyes sweeping the area, noting every shadow, every possible exit. The SUVs haven’t moved.

The night feels too still. In my experience, this is exactly the type of stillness that swallows sound before all hell breaks loose. For the senator’s sake, I hope I’m wrong. I’m on a mission, but if the choice was between me or him, I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in the crooked motherfucker myself.

The air shifts. Fallon steps back, his face a mask of controlled annoyance. “We’re done here,” he says sharply, his tone brooking no argument.

The man doesn’t reply immediately, his lips curving into a faint, unreadable smile. His eyes flick to me again as if testing the waters. I don’t blink, my stance solid, one hand hovering near my sidearm in a clear, unmistakable warning.

Without another word, Fallon pivots and walks back toward the car. I fall into step behind him, every muscle in my body wound tight.

The first shot slices through the silence.

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