Page 6 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)

The scent of DreamBurger’s signature garlic fries wafted from the paper bag, making Jade’s stomach growl.

Lauren Daggett might be living the dream with her successful restaurant chain, gorgeous Knight Tactical husband, and growing baby bump, but right now all Jade cared about was the double cheeseburger waiting to salvage her long day.

She shifted the bag to her other hand as she climbed the stairs to her second-floor condo, her heels clicking against the concrete steps. The sound echoed in the empty stairwell, too loud in the evening quiet. A shiver crawled up her spine that had nothing to do with the February chill.

The feeling that had dogged her all day intensified. Since finding the flowers—and that note—she’d been fighting the old instincts. The ones that had kept her alive in another life. Another time.

The instincts to run.

Stop it. You’re being paranoid.

But paranoia had saved her life more than once.

She paused on the landing, looking out the window at the cars in the parking lot below. The lot was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that made her skin prickle.

Jade scanned the shadows between the cars. Nothing moved. No one lurked. Just the lazy yellow circles of light from the lamp posts, stretched long across the snowy pavement.

Everything looked normal.

So why did she feel so ... wrong?

She reached her door, keys already in hand. Nothing looked out of place, but something felt off. The air itself felt charged, disturbed.

A door creaked open behind her. “Jade? Oh thank goodness.”

Mrs. Leland from 2B stood in her doorway, wrapped in a floral housecoat, her normally neat gray hair slightly disheveled. “I heard someone in your condo earlier—moving things around. I knew you were at work, so I ...” She twisted her hands together. “I ... I called the police.”

Jade’s heart stopped, but she kept her expression neutral.

“By the time they came, whoever it was had gone. Everything was quiet.” Mrs. Leland’s fingers worried at her housecoat belt. “I didn’t file a report. I thought maybe it was someone you knew. I didn’t want to cause trouble if it was nothing ...”

“You did exactly the right thing.” Jade forced warmth into her voice despite the ice in her veins. “Thank you for looking out for me. It was probably just ... a friend.” The lie tasted bitter.

“Oh good.” The woman’s shoulders relaxed. “I worry, you know. A young woman living alone.” She hesitated. “You’re sure everything’s all right?”

“Everything’s fine.” Jade managed a smile. “I’m sorry they disturbed you.”

She waited until her neighbor’s door clicked shut before turning back to her own condo. Her hand trembled slightly as she unlocked her door. The police had been here. Had whoever broken in known? Had they timed their exit perfectly, or just gotten lucky?

Darkness spilled out as she pushed the door open, carrying the faint scent of her vanilla candle—the one she hadn’t lit today.

Someone was letting her know they could get to her anytime they wanted.

Her fingers found the light switch, flooding her condo with harsh fluorescent light.

The living room looked ... wrong. Like someone had shifted everything three inches to the left.

Her magazines, normally stacked precisely on the coffee table, were slightly askew.

The throw blanket on her couch had been refolded—not the way she always did it.

The air felt cooler. Recently disturbed.

Her DreamBurger bag hit the counter with a dull thud as she moved through the space, cataloging changes.

File cabinet drawers pulled out, contents dumped and roughly reshuffled.

Her desk ransacked, papers scattered across the floor like fallen leaves.

But her laptop sat untouched. Her emergency cash—hidden in an old coffee can in the back of her pantry—was still there.

This wasn’t a robbery.

It was a message.

Her gaze caught on a single sheet of paper centered perfectly on her kitchen counter. White printer paper, ordinary. Except for the words typed in plain black font:

Stay safe. Stay in your lane.

The words pulsed on the page, each letter a heartbeat of threat. Her chest tightened, breaths coming quick and shallow. She knew this feeling—the precursor to a panic attack.

No. Not now. She couldn’t afford to fall apart.

Focus. Breathe. Think.

But thinking was dangerous. Thinking meant acknowledging what this meant. That someone had found her. That all her careful planning, her years of building this new life brick by precise brick, could crumble at any moment.

They knew where she lived.

They could get to her whenever they wanted.

And they were watching.

The walls of her condo pressed in, the carefully chosen decorations—all meant to project normalcy, stability, belonging—now mocked her. How had she ever thought she could outrun her past?

The burger’s aroma, so appealing moments ago, now turned her stomach. She grabbed the note with trembling fingers, fighting the urge to crumple it, to burn it, to destroy this tangible proof that her carefully constructed safety was nothing but an illusion.

But she couldn’t. She needed evidence. Needed to think clearly. Needed to?—

A sound in the hallway made her freeze.

Footsteps?

Or just her paranoia, growing louder with each passing second?

Her training kicked in like muscle memory. Not the kind you learn in self-defense classes—the kind you learn surviving on streets where trust is a luxury and help always comes with strings attached.

She moved through her condo with precise efficiency, gathering scattered papers, reorganizing files. Her movements were calm, deliberate. Anyone watching would see a woman tidying up, not someone whose sanctuary had just been violated.

She tucked the threatening note into a manila envelope, filed it with the others. Three now. Each one a reminder that her past wasn’t as buried as she’d hoped.

As she straightened the throw blanket—folding it properly this time, her way—her thoughts drifted to Deke Williams. The way he carried himself, like a man who knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of.

She’d seen him with DJ today, had caught glimpses of the fierce protectiveness beneath his careful control.

Knight Tactical operators were legendary in Hope Landing. Not just security, but guardian angels for those who needed them. She’d heard the stories at church, seen the way people relaxed when one of them was around.

Deke would know what to do. She could picture him standing in her condo, those sharp eyes taking everything in, that quiet strength wrapping around her like armor ...

But he’d ask questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer.

She’d caught him watching her today, had felt the weight of his attention like a physical touch. He saw too much already. The way he looked at her sometimes, like he was trying to read between lines she’d carefully erased—it terrified her almost as much as these notes.

No. She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk him discovering who she really was. What she’d done.

Better to handle this alone. She was good at alone. Had survived worse alone.

But as she finished restoring order to her violated space, her hands still trembling slightly, she couldn’t quite shake the image of Deke’s steady presence, or the treacherous whisper in her heart that wondered what it would be like to let someone else carry this weight along with her.

To let someone in.

To be protected, instead of always protecting herself.

Jade stood in the middle of her now-pristine living room, hands clenched at her sides. The fear was still there, churning in her gut, but something else rose alongside it. Something harder. Colder.

Anger.

They wanted her scared. Wanted her looking over her shoulder, jumping at shadows. Wanted her to feel small and powerless, like that terrified girl she’d been all those years ago.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore.

She crossed to her window, staring out at the snow-covered mountains that had become her home. Hope Landing. She’d chosen this place carefully, built a life here brick by careful brick. Her students needed her. DJ needed her.

She wasn’t going to let some coward with a keyboard chase her away.

“I don’t run anymore,” she whispered to her reflection in the dark glass. The woman staring back had steel in her spine and fire in her eyes. “You want to play games? Fine. But you picked the wrong target this time.”

She turned away from the window, her heels clicking against the hardwood with renewed purpose. Whoever was behind this thought they knew her—thought they could control her with fear and threats.

This ended now. On her terms.

They had no idea what she was capable of.