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Afterward, tangled together in the dark, I brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.

She was half-asleep, her body warm and soft against mine.

“I mean it, Jude,” I whispered against her skin.

“I’m gonna marry you someday. As soon as I know you’re ready, I will propose to you.”

She didn’t open her eyes.

She just smiled — a small, secret smile — and tucked herself even closer against me.

And I knew, deep in my bones, that someday wasn’t that far away.

34

Jude

The days that followed blurred into a kind of beautiful routine.

Early mornings with Cyclone, lazy coffee on the back deck, teasing texts while he worked with the Team, and I settled into my new job at Owen Security.

For once, my life wasn’t about survival.

It was about living.

Laughing.

Loving.

But peace, as I was learning, was fragile.

And it never lasted long.

It started on a Thursday.

Just an ordinary day — coffee run, a quick meeting with Owen about a new case, a walk along the beach during my lunch break.

The pier was quiet, and the spring tourists were still a few weeks away.

The breeze smelled like salt and sunscreen, and kids were laughing somewhere farther down the boardwalk.

I stood at the railing, sipping my coffee, letting the sun warm my face.

And then...

I felt it.

The prickle.

The unmistakable weight of beingwatched. I knew that feeling.

I turned slowly, scanning the crowds — tourists in sun hats, a guy selling T-shirts, a couple walking a dog.

Normal.

Ordinary.

Safe.