Page 1 of Guarded Knight

PROLOGUE

It’sone block from the nearest parking spot to my front door.

One block. That’s all. But too far when you’re being hunted.

It’s dark, and the bass from a neighbor’s house party pulses in the distance like some kind of warped heartbeat.

I would never usually park this far from my front door, but there are about twenty extra cars on my typically quiet street and I couldn’t get any closer.

Normally, my Santa Fe neighborhood feels safe. Adobe homes, sleepy porches, art-student charm. Not tonight.

I see my house about a hundred feet ahead nestled among others just like it and I remember thinking how dreamy my new independent life would be here, away from my small town and the weight of guilt about my family worrying about me. I thought I’d feel independent, safe and free.

I never thought I’d feel like prey.

My keys are laced between my fingers, and I have pepper spray clutched in my other hand. My bag’s tucked tight under my arm, my pace fast enough to scream confident. Like I’m not mentally practicing some Jackie Chan style self-defense moves I’d never pull off.

But I’ve been followed before. It started a month ago. At first, I thought it was nothing, my entitled ex being the prick that he always was. But then, the letters left on my car were too close for comfort. Left unanswered, they escalated over the month, culminating in notes being left inside my house.

Bad girls need to be punished.

He thinks I betrayedhim?

I don’t care about his accusations anywhere near as much as how he got inside without any trace of breaking and entering.

I couldn’t tell my parents, they would have insisted I move back home, and if I didn’t, probably camp out on my porch, but I did call the big guns. My brother, Xander, said he’d sort it.

He would also normally come to my side, but with two girls to care for and a move to the East Coast, all he could do was promise he’d take care of it.

Soon.

And in the meantime, he said…don’t leave anything to chance.

Is parking up the street and walking home just one block leaving things to chance? Is telling my roommate, Freya, I don’t need her to leave happy hour early just to chaperone me home leaving things to chance?

I swear footsteps quicken behind me and I don’t stop walking but spin swiftly. Nothing. But the air feels tight, electric, like it knows something I don’t.

The streetlamp flickers twice, then dies.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter.

I scan the area behind me. Just houses. Shadows. One porch is lit up with paper lanterns and laughter, a bright, easy joy that doesn’t belong in the same world as the thing crawling under my skin.

No one’s there.

Probably.

Probablyno one’s there.

But someone watches me. They’ve made themselves known, and one day, they might make it impossible for me to ignore them. I never thought I’d want to leave Santa Fe, but my apparent stalker has gone and ruined this place for me in just thirty days.

I turn and cross the street out of instinct. If someone’s out here playing games, they don’t get to herd me like a sheep. My boots clap against the pavement. I walk like I own it. Like I haven’t spent a month glancing over my shoulder, and I hate that if he’s there, following, I just gave him that satisfaction of knowing I’m… scared.

I am.

I’ve never said it aloud but I’ve said it more than once inside my head, and now it’s real.

Lara, you’re probably imagining things.