Page 59 of Without a Trace

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“Well,” he said, voice smooth, slow. “That’s her.”

Alden stepped in front of me. “You need to leave.”

The man tilted his head. “Didn’t come to start trouble.”

“Then you picked the wrong house.”

The man’s smile widened. “You always this fun, Rivers?”

I blinked. “Wait—how do you—”

“Scarlett,” Alden said quietly. “Go inside.”

I didn’t move.

The man was still looking at me. Not grossly. Not even in a flirtatious way. But in aknowingway. Like he’d read a file with my name on it. Like he’d been waiting.

And then—

“Move.”

Trace’s voice.

I hadn’t heard him come up behind us, but he was there now—shirt clinging faintly from the heat. Storm in his brown eyes.

The man turned, smile flickering. “Didn’t think you’d still be here, Maddox.”

“I am.”

They stared at each other, just a silent standoff, thick with something that cracked at the edges.

Thicker. Tighter. Older than it should’ve been.

And for the first time, I realized—we weren’t just caught in something dangerous.

We were already buried in it.

The man didn’t leave.

He just stood there on the porch as if he belonged. Like he hadn’t just cracked something open in the air between us. Chin tipped up, every breath held tight beneath skin stretched too thin.

No one told him.

Kane came out first, his expression unreadable. Rhett followed, unusually quiet. Alden stayed beside me, still as stone, but I could feel it—the way his whole body went tense.

And then Trace stepped forward.

The man’s gaze moved across the group like he was assessing the damage, his eyes landing on me.

He didn’t smile.

“So this is her?” he said, tone low and flat.

It wasn’t a question that needed answering. It was more like confirmation. Like he already knew.

My stomach twisted.

“Who the fuck is that?” Sloane muttered behind me, voice hushed but sharp, Lena standing beside her. “And why is he looking at you like that?”

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