Page 63 of Sins of the Hidden

I spoke before she could answer. "She has plans." Her eyes widened slightly. "Bakery." My tone left no room for argument.

"Bakery? What is he talking about?" Joslyn demanded.

Oakley squirmed, fidgeting with the need to rub her arms, a nervous habit impossible with her hands full. "Oh, ah—" she started, voice catching. "I-I was g-going to tell you all soon."

I crossed the room in three long strides, taking her bags and drinks. We brushed briefly, the contact sending electricity through my veins. She looked up with a small smile, relief evident in her eyes. My heart rate spiked—a reaction no one else triggered.

"Thank you." The soft gratitude in her voice made my grip tighten on her belongings.

Joslyn snapped her fingers. "Focus." I pictured the satisfying resistance her teeth would offer against my bat. "What bakery?"

"V-V bought me a b-bakery." Oakley's stutter returned under pressure, a soft pink flush creeping up her neck, her pulse visible beneath her skin.

The bell above the door chimed, interrupting us. A man in a tailored suit entered, his eyes immediately landing on Oakley. Something about the way his gaze lingered on her made every muscle in my body coil tight.

"Good morning," he said, voice too smooth, too practiced. His eyes tracked down Oakley's body before meeting her face again. "I need to order flowers for my mother's birthday."

I moved between them before he could take another step, my bat tapping rhythmically against my leg. The man's eyes widened as he noticed me for the first time, taking in the blood on my clothes, the mask covering my face, the weapon in my hand.

"I..." he swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "I can come back another time."

"No, it's fine," Oakley said, stepping partially around me. "I can help you."

I remained rooted in place, watching as she moved to the counter. The man kept glancing at me, nervousness evident in the sweat beading at his temples. But it didn't stop him from leaning too close to Oakley as she showed him the catalog, leaning close enough to touch her as he pointed at different arrangements.

Each touch added his name to my mental list. Limp didn't know it yet, but he'd just become number eight—after I finished with number seven tonight. I memorized his face, the way he held himself, categorizing his weaknesses. His limp was slight, but enough. I knew where I'd start—where pain would scream the loudest. He'd touched what was mine. I'd make sure the memory of her burned in his bones before I broke them.

The hunger inside me grew as I watched him lean too close to Oakley again. I stepped forward, the wooden floorboards creaking under my weight. The man straightened immediately, putting distance between himself and Oakley.

"I'll take that one," he said hurriedly, pointing randomly at the catalog.

Oakley glanced back at me, a small frown creasing her forehead. "Are you sure? That's quite expensive."

"It's fine. Perfect. When can I pick it up?"

"T-tomorrow afternoon," Oakley replied, writing down his order.

The man paid quickly, nearly dropping his wallet in his haste. As he turned to leave, I shifted slightly, blocking his path momentarily. Our eyes met. His widened with fear. Good. He should be afraid. He'd touched what was mine.

When he was gone, Oakley turned to me with a questioning look. I said nothing, but moved closer to her, my body nearly touching hers, reclaiming the space the stranger had violated.

"He was just ordering flowers," she said quietly, but didn't step away from me.

I didn't respond. She was wrong. He'd been looking at her like she was something to consume. Something to take. And for that, he'd die. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But his time was now limited. I'd added him to my list, which only got shorter when people stopped breathing.

Joslyn gestured impatiently. "Focus. What bakery?"

Sarge spoke then. "That's why you wanted that building?"

Joslyn turned to him, "You knew?"

"He talked about it in Church. Didn't know what he wanted it for."

"It's pretty run down, it needs to be fixed up." Her eyes warmed, taking on a dreamy quality that transformed her face. She traced a small circle on her wrist—the tell of her excitement. "But I love it." The genuine happiness in her voice made me want to hunt down anyone who ever made her cry.

Sweet Summer's. A bakery named after the child we would have together one day. I'd promised her our Summer would exist. And I'd make it happen, whatever it took. I'd hunt down anyone who stood in our way. Our child would come into this world through my will alone if necessary. Oakley didn't realize the lengths I would go to yet. But she would. That bakery wasn'ta shop. It was a shrine. To her. To us. To the future I'd already decided we would have.

"We can help!" Joslyn volunteered.

---