Page 39 of Second Chance Daddy

Idiots.

I slow at the corner, killing my headlights, creeping up like a ghost. When I step out, just to take a look around so I can sleep easy, the night air is cool on my skin. The streets are empty—not even a stray cat moving in the shadows.

Except.

There.

At the edge of my vision. A figure. Still as death. Watching her house from the same side of the street I’m on, but about half a block down.

My blood runs cold. Every instinct I have honed through years of surviving in the Bratva screams danger.

I’m no wide-eyed rookie fresh off the bus—I know a predator when I see one, and no man’s standing outside her house this late unless he’s hunting.

I melt back into the shadows, becoming part of the darkness. The man doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching. Patient as a snake waiting for a mouse.

I circle, keeping to the tree line, moving silently as a lion in the Savannah. Who I am kicks in without conscious thought. I’m on autopilot, searching for where to land my fists.

I’m closer now and able to make out more details. Male. Medium build. Black hair. There’s something in his hand—small, glinting in the moonlight.

A phone? A knife?

He shifts slightly, and I freeze. But he’s not looking my way. He’s taking pictures. Of Cassie’s house. Of the windows where she and Aria sleep.

My jaw tightens, teeth grinding together so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack. A cold fury settles in my chest. The kind that doesn’t burn hot and fast, but freezes everything in its path.

The man finishes whatever he’s doing and starts moving. Not toward the house, but away. Down the street. To a car parked where the streetlights don’t reach.

I follow. Every muscle coiled and ready.

He gets in the driver’s side, and I slip up to the passenger window, just enough to glimpse him without being caught. Peer in.

What I see makes my blood turn to ice.

Dozens of photos that have no business being there. They’re pinned above the dashboard to the inside of the car. Cassie walking Aria to school. Cassie at the bakery. Aria playing in the park.

And one—that one damn near socks me in the chest. Cassie and I, back at the Romano barbecue. Standing close. Talking. Her looking up at me like she can’t believe I’m real.

But it’s what’s written across it that socks me harder than a bar brawl on dollar whiskey night.

“Confirm paternity. Then terminate.”

The world narrows to a pinpoint. Every sound fades except the rush of blood in my ears. The cold fury in my chest spreads, turning my veins to ice.

I should kill him now. One quick move. Break his neck. End the threat.

But that would only solve half the problem. Gino sent him. Gino wants to know if Aria is his.

Gino wants to “terminate,” and it’s Gino who’ll be seeing the end of my barrel.

I return to the shadows as the engine starts. Watch as the car pulls away, taillights disappearing around the corner.

This isn’t just about Cassie and me anymore. This is about Aria.

My jaw tightens as I stare after the car, my decision already made.

This ends now.

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