Page 20 of Guarded Knight

But reality slams back. Those photos. Her face soft in sleep, caught by a predator’s lens. Rage claws at my ribs, colliding with the sharp ache of wanting her, protecting her, wishing it wasn’t this asshole who put us in the same orbit again. I’ve waited years to hear her voice. I finally got it, and it had to be like this.

I unload the U-Haul, burning off the edge with brute labor. If I stop moving, I’ll see them again.

Her, vulnerable. Him, lurking in the dark.

By the time the book club wrapped up, I’d gotten all their stuff upstairs and had time to triple-check the window locks and door again.

It’s not enough. It’ll never feel like enough. Those locks can’t erase the fact that someone has already been inside her life, close enough to watch her breathe.

If only I could convince her to stay at Monarch Hills with me… I know she’d never agree, but there, at the ranch, there are a lot more eyeballs. I want to lock her down where nothing can touch her.

I have to remind myself that locking her down is more about my fear, not hers. She’s okay at this apartment as long as I’m around. The photos don’t prove Cameron knows where she is, only that he’s even more psychotic than we thought.

I linger outside until the book club empties. Pretend not to notice Lara and Freya slip out, heading for the apartment.

The bell over the bookshop door gives a lazy jingle when I slip inside and a wash of perfume, cinnamon, and the sharp citrus of spiked alcohol washes over me.

Anton’s still here, leaning against a display of October’s Spiciest Picks with a book cracked open, arms crossed, posture loose, face plastered with amusement.

He straightens when I get closer but doesn’t stop reading until I clear my throat and he reluctantly closes the book. He lifts it in the air between us.

“The people who write this stuff are elite.” He places the book back down on the display and assesses me, quickly deciding something’s changed. “Throw it at me.”

I slide my cell out, open it to the images Lara shared with me, and hand it to him.

He looks at the first one, and all the air leaves the room. “Shit…” He zooms in, concentrating on the images. “This was in Santa Fe?

“Yeah. In her house.” In herbedroom.

Anton hands my phone back. “Did you call the police?”

“No.” I rake a hand through my hair. “They were sent from a burner phone, so we can’t tie them back to him.”

Without anything that can prove Cameron’s breaking and entering, or at least trespassing, we can’t do shit about it. And we aren’t interested in a restraining order.

We’re looking for bars.

Anton exhales slowly. “She’s lucky it wasn’t worse. He could have…”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. The images in my head are already bad enough. I don’t need Anton’s imagination chiming in.

I pocket the phone but I won’t forget that photo. It’s the kind of image that makes a man want to break something.Or someone.

I lean on the display table, grounding myself with something solid before I spiral too far. “We need to gather intel in Santa Fe so we can see if there’s anything at all that can connect him to these break-ins.” My chest is tight as I talk. “I don’t want it to come to setting a trap. That means putting Lara back into the mix, and that’s the last resort. We need to get rid of him without involving her.”

Anton watches me, expression unreadable, but he’s never seen me quite like this. I’ve never needed to use this much restraint.

“You’re not going,” he says, picking up another book and flipping it like a fan, his eyes still on me. “She needs you here.”

Somehow the words come out more likeIneedherhere.

I nod, jaw tight. “Yeah. She does.”

He plops the book back down.

I can’t go full warpath because staying in Echo Valley is the smarter play.

Not only do I understand Lara’s behavior better, but there’s more… I’ve come a long way since the old days, with military training for mental control and, of course, therapy, but if I crossed paths with Cameron in Santa Fe, would I split him in two?