Page 278 of Let Me In

But they’re not watching the water.

And they’re not watching me.

I lean against the edge of the marina, hood up, hands buried deep in my coat pockets. The cold settles into my knees, stiffens the joints in my fingers. Breath fogs against the wind, and I let it. Unmoving.

There’s one more shift change before dawn.

One more circuit I need to see.

After that—

It begins.

I’ll slip into the wetsuit. Silent. Low. No gear that makes noise. No tech they can trace.

Just the weight of memory.

And the knowledge that I have nothing left to prove.

Only something sacred to protect. Someone who’s given me more than any mission ever has.

I glance down the dock.

The streetlights buzz in the distance.

And I murmur it under my breath.

Just once.

Just to feel it settle in my chest.

“I’m coming home.”

The dock creaks once beneath my boots.

Just once.

Then nothing.

The wind is low tonight, barely moving the lines where the smaller boats sway.

The yacht is out past the narrows. Lit quiet. Guarded but not fortified.

Rich men always think silence makes them untouchable.

But I’ve lived in silence longer than they’ve lived in power.

They don’t know what it sounds like when it breathes back.

I settle onto the crate I’ve been using all night. One knee bent, the other foot planted. Elbows resting loose on my thighs.

Still.

I’ve barely moved in hours.

That’s how I used to be trained. Hours of stillness. Hours of watching.

But this isn’t about training.

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