Page 62 of Pretty Little Trigger

CHAPTER 61

Kaden

FOUR MONTHS AGO.

She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s my prey.

And I always catch what I chase.

I’m a predator. A hunter .

I’ve stopped pretending this is surveillance.

This isn’t a job anymore.

It’s a fixation.

She walks out of her studio just past six.

Her jacket is draped over her arm, phone pressed to her ear, hair pulled back in that effortless way that makes me want to fist it and ruin everything polished about her.

Alana Ashby. Princess of a fucking diamond empire.

She’s a walking contradiction.

I thought she’d be some trust fund baby, sitting back and spending daddy’s money.

But she’s got her own business, her own brand.

And for some reason, I find that admirable.

Brave. Strong.

She laughs.

It’s light, careless, unaware of the monster shadowing her footsteps.

That sound? It hits somewhere low in my spine.

I slide behind the wheel and wait.

Patient. Predatory. When she pulls out, I follow.

I stay two cars behind as she drives.

Not too close. Not too far.

I’ve memorised her routes.

Mapped out every coffee stop, every boutique, every valet who knows her name.

But tonight, she drives somewhere new.

She parks along the coast and walks toward the overlook, heels clicking against the path.

No friends. No security.

Just her and the wind.

I kill the engine. Step out.

Keep my distance.

She leans on the railing, city lights flickering below like fallen stars.

I’m maybe twenty feet back, tucked into the shadows.

And still, I swear she knows.

Her shoulders shift.

She turns slightly, like she can feel me.

She’s radiant in the dark.

Like something I’m not supposed to touch.

But God, I want to. I want to press my mouth to that pulse just under her jaw and see how fast I can make it race.

I’m dreaming about what her lips taste like.

If she kisses slow or fast. If she says my name when she comes.

I imagine her on my lap, in my bed, in my grip.

What the fuck am I doing?

It’s pathetic. I should walk away.

Instead, I take one step closer.

She turns around, squinting into the dark.

Her brow furrows for a split second.

Like she sees something…

but not quite. I freeze.

She doesn’t move.

Then, as if deciding she imagined it, she pulls her jacket tighter around herself and walks back to her car.

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.