Page 69 of Beautiful Scars

I end the call without responding.

My mind circles back to Sunny, to late-night conversations, and to the strength it must have taken to rebuild her life from nothing.

But there's no logical connection between her and this note. None that makes sense, anyway. Better to focus on the obvious threats—rival organizations, old enemies, ghosts drifting up from the safehouse basement.

I check my mirrors again out of habit. No tail, no suspicious vehicles. Just me and my paranoid thoughts.

The note crinkles in my pocket. "Actions Have Consequences." Someone's making a move. I just don't know from what direction.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Zane

Iwaketomyphone vibrating against my chest where I fell asleep with it. Sunny's name flashes on the screen and my stomach drops. I already talked to her this morning while she was finishing up her shift and getting ready to leave work.

"Z?" Her voice comes through shaky, barely controlled. "I think... I think someone followed me home."

I'm already up, grabbing my keys and gun from the nightstand. "Tell me what happened."

"I ended up sticking around a little bit later to help one of the other bartenders. I was fine leaving the club, but as soon as I got out of my car it felt like I was being watched. The whole walk up the stairs, I felt like there was someone behind me. And now..." She takes a shallow breath. "I swear I can hear someone on the other side of my door."

"Stay on the phone with me. I'm a little more than five minutes out." I'm grateful now for our morning routine. Our daily phone call. Early morning breakfasts and coffee and conversations have given me more than just the pleasure of her company—they've gotten me used to functioning on her schedule. I'm up, dressed and out the door in under a minute.

The streets blur past as I push my car harder than I should. "Keep talking to me, Sunny. Are all your windows locked?"

"Yes." Her voice is barely a whisper now. "Z, I'm scared."

The vulnerability in her voice hits me hard. Sunny would never admit to fear unless she was overwhelmed by it. Our time together has shown me how carefully she guards herself, how rare it is for her to let anyone see below the surface.

"I'm almost there. Two minutes." She gasps and I hear rustling through the phone. "What was that?"

"Someone's definitely out there. I can hear them moving." Her breathing quickens. "What if it's..."

She doesn't finish the thought, but she doesn't need to. Garrett's shadow still looms large over her life—I've seen it in the way she startles at sudden movements, how she always positions herself with clear sight lines to exits.

I screech into the parking lot of her complex, not bothering to find a proper spot. "I'm here. Coming up now. Stay away from the door."

Taking the stairs two at a time, my hand stays close to the gun tucked into my waistband and hidden under my jacket. The hallway leading to her apartment is empty and silent, but something feels off. There's a faint smell of cigarette smoke that gets stronger the closer I get to her apartment.

I reach her door and notice a few scratches and scuff marks on the frame. They aren't very noticeable, but I know they weren't there yesterday when I dropped her off after breakfast.

"Sunny," I whisper into the phone. "I'm right outside. Going to knock three times, okay?"

I hear her small sound of acknowledgment and rap my knuckles against the door in our now-familiar pattern. The lock clicks and the door opens just enough for me to slip inside.

Sunny stands there in one of the oversized hoodies she wears to work, face pale but composed. I do a quick sweep of her apartment while she resets all the locks.

"It's clear," I tell her, holstering my weapon. "No one's here."

She nods but doesn't relax. "I know what being watched feels like, Z. Someone was following me."

I believe her. Sunny's survived too much to ignore her instincts. "Tell me everything you noticed. Any details."

She sinks onto her couch, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I don't know. I got off work a little late, like I said, but I didn't notice anything unusual. I didn't notice anyone pulling into the garage after me. The garage was deserted, like it always is this time of night. But I swear, as soon as I got out of the car, I knew I wasn't alone."

I sit beside her, careful to leave space between us. Spending time with her has taught me the dance of proximity—how to be close enough for comfort without triggering her need for distance.

"The feeling got stronger in the stairwell," she continues. "And then..." She glances at the door. "I swear someone was right there, Z. Just... standing there."

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