Page 47 of The Final Contract

“And what sort of things are you into these days that you think you can help?” I ask.

Her mouth curves, sharp and knowing. “Because I still know the gutters you and Finn crawled out of. I’ve got ears in kitchens, janitors in buildings, doormen who see more than they should. The ones nobody notices. The ones nobody asks. You think this bastard’s a ghost, but ghosts leave footprints—and the overlooked are the ones who see them first.”

She leans in a little. “Let me stir that pot. Get word out in the circles that don’t make it onto your security feeds. Somebody’s seen him. They just don’t know what they were lookin’ at.”

I study her, weighing it. Jaxon can scrape every feed in the city. But Nora? Nora’s the kind who can slip through the cracks and make the nobodies talk.

And she’s right—if this stalker hides in plain sight, it’s the people no one sees who’ll find him.

I’m nodding before I’ve even made the decision. Already know I’m going to agree. I pull my phone out. “I’ll drop you what we’ve got so far.”

Nora slips hers from her pocket, but my screen stays stubbornly blank. No service down here. I roll my eyes.

“Here,” she says, taking my phone straight out of my hand and plugging her number in.

I take it back, tuck it away. “I’ll send it in a few. Would’ve liked this done yesterday.”

She chuckles—warm but edged. “Finn explained your… need for urgency.”

The way she says it makes my head snap toward him. Like he gave her more than he should’ve. He just shrugs, innocent as a saint.

Nora lays a hand on my arm before she goes. “Say hi to your mother for me, Killian. Tell her she doesn’t need to be a stranger anymore.”

I nod once because I don’t trust my voice.

Her eyes linger on Finn, longer than they should. “Good to hear from you, Finn.”

“Thanks, Nora,” he says, softer than I’ve heard him in years.

She turns the corner and disappears.

I don’t wait a beat before I turn on him.

He lifts a hand. “Don’t start with me, boy.” No heat in it.

“You and Nora?” I push, half-grinning.

He shakes his head. “Nothin’. Silly summer affair when we were younger.”

We’re walking back toward the mouth of the alley when I mutter, “Maybe think about givin’ her a call one day when you’re off work.”

Finn smirks, but before he can answer my phone buzzes. Jaxon’s tag flashes on the screen—file incoming. I swipe it open and it’s a video.

From Seraphina’s phone.

My jaw tightens as I realize Jaxon intercepted it, rerouted it to me before it ever touched her screen.

Grainy footage. Inside the club, and I know instantly it’s from the stalker. But it isn’t her the lens is on.

It’s me.

The bastard zooms in, closer and closer, until it’s clear: I’m standing across the room, eyes locked on her. Watching her every move.

My chest goes tight. This isn’t just about catching her anymore. This is a message. A warning. I’m the obstacle. I’m the threat.

“Finn,” I growl, shoving the phone toward him. “He’s in the club.”

But before Finn can respond, pounding feet slap the pavement.