Page 22 of Reptile Dysfunction (Harmony Glen #11)

Chapter Twenty

T had

The town hall’s ancient floorboards creak under my weight as I follow Sloane into the Revelation Day planning meeting.

My back is nearly healed after almost three full weeks of recovery.

Although friends and family continue to remind me of my ignominious defeat, at least I can move without my snakes crying about it. Small victories.

“You’re sure about this?” I mutter as we approach the conference room. Through the glass doors, I spot familiar faces—town politicians with plastic smiles, a few token monster representatives, and Sebastian, his snakes sporting snappy red bowties that look dignified on him.

“The committee needs to hear from an actual enforcer instead of just talking about them,” Sloane says, straightening my collar with practiced ease. “Besides, the business needs the exposure.”

She’s right, but my gut still tightens. Five years hiding in plain sight after the Revelation, and now I’m voluntarily putting myself in the spotlight. Sterling, the showoff, stretches toward the glass doors eagerly while my more sensible snakes maintain a wary posture.

We slip into the room during a discussion. Mayor Whitaker stops mid-sentence, his political smile flickering for just a moment before broadening.

“Thaddeus! Couldn’t ask for better timing. We were just discussing security arrangements.”

The subtle tension shift is immediate—heartbeats accelerating, chairs scraping back slightly, eyes darting to my snake-crowned head. Old enforcer instincts catalog each reaction, sorting potential threats from mere discomfort.

Linda Hoyle from the Chamber of Commerce shuffles papers nervously. “With your daughter’s blog post going viral,” she addresses the mayor with a tight smile, “we’re expecting significantly larger crowds than anticipated. Some people have… questions.”

“About whether the scary stories were true,” John Birchfield says bluntly, meeting my gaze without flinching. “Whether enforcers really made troublemakers disappear.”

The room goes silent. Sloane’s hand on my thigh under the table keeps me centered.

“We prevented exposure,” I say, voice low and controlled. “Protected both communities using the tools we had. Sometimes that meant using fear.” I let my eyes shift amber, just enough to make Linda Hoyle’s breath catch. “Sometimes it meant something more serious …”

Sebastian clears his throat. “Which is precisely why having Guardian Solutions handle security is ideal. Who better understands potential threats?”

The meeting lurches into logistics and planning, but I can feel the undercurrent—a fascination laced with lingering fear. As I outline the security protocols, whispers drift from the far end of the table.

“…can’t believe we’re putting the fox in charge of the henhouse…”

“…still makes my skin crawl when his eyes do that thing…”

My snakes register every murmur, each furtive glance. Sterling, surprisingly, maintains a dignified posture instead of his usual showing off. Even he understands the stakes.

“The water ballet is still on schedule,” Iris announces during the entertainment portion of the discussion. “Thaddeus has been very dedicated to his recovery and assures us he’ll be raring to go by showtime.”

Several committee members hide smiles. The story of my Pilates-related humiliation has clearly made the rounds. Of course it has.

The tension seems to have faded, but I notice Bradley Harrington III watching from the doorway, his expensive suit and calculating eyes marking him as a predator of a different sort. My snakes track his movements as he slips away, phone already to his ear.

After the meeting, Sloane and I linger in the empty conference room.

“That went better than expected,” she says, moving to stand between my legs as I perch on the table’s edge.

The intimate position sends heat spiraling through me, and I look around to see if maybe I can sneak a kiss.

No, Thaddeus, the key word is professional.

“Though I caught Bradley lurking. Something’s brewing there. ”

“Guardian Solutions can handle it,” I say, but there’s an edge to my voice. “No matter what he’s planning.”

The door opens, and Sebastian appears. “Coming to dinner? Aspen’s making that muscle-relaxing tea for your back.”

“We have plans,” Sloane says smoothly. “Business paperwork.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” But he withdraws with a grin.

As we leave, I spot Bradley across the street, watching us from his parked car. My snakes form a protective crown, all traces of fatigue vanishing as they sense a potential threat.

“Problem?” Sloane asks, noticing their sudden alertness.

“Just a feeling,” I guide her toward my bike, keeping my body between her and Bradley’s watchful eyes. “Nothing Guardian Solutions can’t handle.”

But the enforcer instinct that’s kept me alive pounds a clear warning: Trouble is coming. And this time, it won’t stay in the shadows.