Page 19 of Peripheral Vision (Tethered in Darkness Duet #1)

A smile plays at the corners of my lips, amused by her response.

She thinks she’s in control. I’ll let her hold onto that feeling a little bit longer.

I take a step back, giving her the space she thinks she needs, retreating into the shadows.

But I can tell by the look in her eyes that she knows this is just the beginning.

She can run, she can try to hide from me, but in the end I’ll always be one step ahead, and soon enough, she’ll realize that being caught is exactly what she desires.

I go back into the bar, ordering another beer, now in a much better mood but making sure I stay out of sight of Dylan.

She had powered the breaker box back on, and everything inside had resumed as before.

Except this time, Dylan seemed to get the message.

She keeps scanning the bar, expecting her shadow to pop out at her.

Only, I just want to enjoy the show, delight in the way I make her skin crawl.

I made sure to leave no doubt in her mind that her instincts had been right.

She wasn’t taking me seriously enough, but she will now.

The bartender who was very obviously flirting with her earlier is at her side as they go back to preparing drinks and handing them out to paying patrons, but she won’t meet his eyes.

I smirk to myself, knowing that her attention is diverted away from that prick.

That is, until it fades a few moments later when he puts his hands on her shoulders, turning her toward him.

They exchange several words before he shouts something at the other bartender and leads Dylan once again by the hand to the back.

This time when I squeeze my glass, it shatters, garnering the attention of several people surrounding me as they ask if I’m okay.

I ignore their concern and stand abruptly, walking to the back where they went before pausing, remembering that I want to keep this game going.

I’m not worried that Dylan is going to do anything with him tonight, but I certainly don’t trust him—I saw the way he was looking at her.

Taking several grounding breaths, I choose to leave the bar and dial Nathan.

We’re supposed to be meeting the traffickers for the procedures soon—midnight.

“Fletcher,” he answers on the fourth ring.

“Nathan,” I respond bluntly.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone sharp, still irritated over my move with the sellers.

“We’re still on for midnight, right?” I press, glancing back toward the bar’s entrance, ignoring the itch to go after Dylan and claim what’s rightfully mine.

“Nothing’s changed that I’ve been notified of,” he replies .

“Okay good,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

There’s a pause, the faint sound of tools shuffling about on his end as he sets up his ruse for tonight. “You sound distracted, Fletch.”

Exhaling sharply through my nose, I let my hand drop. “I’m not. Just keeping an eye on… it doesn’t matter.”

Nathan chuckles. “A distraction?”

My grip on my phone tightens and I snap, “I don’t get distracted.” Nathan doesn’t know of my infatuation with Dylan, I haven’t told him despite how much time we spend together, working or otherwise. There’s a part of me that’s not ready to share her yet…

“Sure you don’t. Just make sure that your mind is in the right place for tonight. You lose focus and we all pay the price,” he warns.

“As long as we get to take down some crooks by the end of the night, my mind will be right where it needs to be.” I decided to not agree to the deal I was offered by the ringleader several days ago.

As badly as I wanted to, Nathan was right.

And after that ominous text I received, we need to play it safer now than ever.

Someone is watching us, and we can’t afford to bring the whole operation down on our heads.

Nathan doesn’t respond right away, but when he does, his voice is softer than it was before. “We always do. Just don’t let whatever—or w hoever— get in the way. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

I’m about to tell him to shut the fuck up but the line clicks dead before I can say anything.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and look at the bar one more time.

Dylan hasn’t left yet, and as much as I’d love to trail her home, I have a job to do.

I can’t afford to let her distract me any further.

I have about two hours until midnight, which gives me plenty of time to go back to my Airbnb and prepare for the job.

I need to consider getting a place closer to Dylan.

Now that I’ve committed to our game of cat and mouse, I can’t leave anytime soon unless the job absolutely demands it.

But I’m fairly positive Nathan and I can continue to find work in the city as well, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

I find my way back to my car, hopping behind the driver's seat when my phone buzzes.

I pull my phone back out of my pocket. Another anonymous message to my burner.

She’s awfully pretty.

The color drains from my face. How do they know about Dylan?

I stare at the screen, the words blurring as rage pulses through me.

I’m tempted to respond, my fingers hovering over the keys, but I don’t.

Whoever they are, they’ve just made this personal.

There’s a lot on the line, but even more so now that they’ve brought Dylan into this.

The last thing I want to do is fuck this up and put her in danger.

Put anyone else in danger. But what they don’t realize is that if they harm a hair on my little viper’s head, I won’t hesitate to burn the world down and watch it crumble at their feet.

I’d bring down the heavens and become their living hell until there was nothing left but ash around me.

Another buzz has me hesitating to read the next message that comes through.

When I read it, I know they’re trying to get me off kilter, trying to see if I’ll make a mistake.

Bet she’d fetch a pretty price, don’t you?

It takes everything in me to not smash my phone to pieces.

I hurl it at the passenger seat, starting the ignition and ripping out of my parking space.

My blood boils as it races through my veins while I press down on the accelerator, reaching speeds that would land me in jail if pulled over.

One thing is for certain and two things for sure: they’ll regret ever fucking with me and what’s mine.

Nathan and I are waiting in another abandoned and run-down warehouse while we wait for the sellers to arrive with the children.

Nathan has created a sterile space, playing up the idea that he will actually be harvesting these children’s organs.

He has all of his proper instruments laid out along a tray that's lined with a paper sheet.

There is a metal table behind us lined with another paper sheet where the children are meant to lay for their operation.

Our contact who lines out the jobs for us is standing at the head along with several vials of medication and airway equipment, acting as our anesthesiologist. I check the time: one minute to go.

We spend that minute in tense silence. Just as I’m about to step outside and take a look, a sharp knock sounds on the metal door, causing it to echo throughout the chamber.

I open the door to reveal the ringleader from the other night in the company of several armed guards, and behind them, each of the four children have bags over their heads and their hands tied.

Squaring my face into another neutral, but unimpressed expression, I step to the side to let them through without a word.

But instead, Nathan speaks. “Cutting it close, don’t you think?”

“I was just returning the favor,” the ringleader says, recalling my timing from the other night.

“Lest you forget, these organs have a time limit once they’re harvested. We aren’t only on your time. There are other clients with… expectations,” Nathan remarks, playing his role well.

“We’re here now. So if you’d rather waste more of that precious time of yours arguing, be my guest. It is no skin off of my back.” A malicious smile curls along his face. He doesn’t know how wrong that statement is. How I intend to resolve that.

Stepping between their stand-off, I gesture to the children.

“Bring them forward, then.” They all begin to whimper and sob beneath their hoods as they’re shoved in their backs by one of the guards.

I clench my jaw at their mistreatment. Shortly, that’s all gonna end, and so is the only in I’ve gotten in the almost four years I’ve been doing this.

I swallow the bile that threatens to rise at that notion and settle back into character.

“All four, just as requested and paid for. Do make sure that when you sew them back up that you do it neatly. I’d hate for scars that aren’t caused by future buyers to mar their skin and decrease their value,” the ringleader declares as Nathan grabs the first child and secures them to the table.

Their muffled cries grow louder, and they try to thrash.

This is always one of the harder parts to play.

“A little help over here, Evan. ” Nathan uses my chosen alias for this job. Each time we create a contract, we are given new names and new demographics so nothing can be traced back to our authentic selves or our previous names. It’s solid, given that the government provides us with them.

Game time. I turn, my movements purposeful as I assist Nathan in holding the male down. He lowers his voice, whispering, “As soon as you get in front of the other kids, let loose.”

“You got it.” The feeling of the gun tucked in my waistband is a welcomed weight against my stomach.

The other three children are now huddled against the wall, their hoods becoming wet with their tears.

They all look so much smaller, so fragile, but I can’t afford to let that get to me now.

Not when we’re this close to pulling off the extraction.

“Let’s discuss this deal you offered me as a partnership while we wait, shall we?

” I motion for the ringleader to walk with me.

“Why don’t we discuss it here? I’d hate to miss out on all of the fun.” He stays rooted in place.

I glance over at my shoulder where the child on the table has been sedated. “Unfortunately, my partner likes to work without the scrutiny of too many eyes. However, we can leave a guard or two if it would make you feel better.”

He stays silent, weighing my words before nodding slightly.

He walked in here with four guards—leaving two for Nathan and our contact to dispatch, and two for me, plus the task of incapacitating the ringleader.

As soon as the four of us are outside of the warehouse and into the night air, I draw my gun and fire.

The first shot strikes a guard that was walking ahead, scouting for trouble, square in his back.

He stumbles, his weapon clattering to the ground as he collapses.

The ringleader and the other guard react quickly, yelling erupting from each of them and from inside the warehouse as it mingles with the kid’s yelling.

I dodge out of their line of fire and behind a concrete barrier, shards raining down on me with each impact of their bullets.

I peer over the edge as their fire stops and they reload.

I fire at the second guard, his rifle swinging upward as he racks it, but he does it a moment too slow.

The bullets tear through his throat and his chest, dropping him immediately to the cold pavement.

The ringleader hesitates, the knowledge that he is the only one left settling in as the screams and gunfire stop inside.

He looks around, searching for his best egress, and just as he makes a move to run, I leap from behind the barrier shooting at each of his legs.

My aim strikes home, the first bullet hitting him directly behind his left knee, dropping him to the floor, and the second skimming his right calf.

He yelps and tries to roll over, getting his gun up, but not before I’m upon him and kicking it from his hands.

I throw a punch into his jaw, the crack of bone meeting bone echoing.

I throw in a few others for extra measure and by the time I’m done, he’s unconscious but breathing.

His bleeding is slow, telling me I haven’t hit any major arteries.

Nathan will be pleased. It will make his job of patching the injuries up easier, prolonging our ability to interrogate him.

I roll the ringleader over, securing his wrists and ankles with rope before approaching the warehouse doors, knocking in a rhythm that tells Nathan it’s me.

He opens it almost immediately, a relieved look flashing across his face as it does after all our missions.

My eyes flash over his back where the other three kids have been released and the bags removed from their heads, our contact speaking with them in reassuring whispers.

The child on the table remains unconscious but he will wake up soon.

I walk to where the children are, kneeling down to their level, keeping my voice calm but firm.

They flinch. “I’m sorry that we had to do that, to play their role.

I promise that your sibling will be okay, he’s just asleep right now.

I’m going to take you somewhere safe, somewhere we can reunite you all with your parents, but you have to trust me. Do you think you can do that?”

The oldest, the sixteen-year-old girl, nods hesitatingly. “Okay,” she whispers. I turn back toward Nathan, a strained smile crossing my face, another successful rescue in the books.

I reach out and offer her my hand. “Then let’s get you all home.”