Maybe—just maybe—she’s a little more like me than I thought.
The texts raised a flag.
Adam.
He’s a problem. A walking complication I don’t need in the middle of this operation. But more than that—he’s dangerous. He’s already put his hands on her, and thinks he can do it again, probably. He thinks he’s untouchable.
I’m going to have to deal with him.
Not just for the mission’s integrity.
Forher.
Because sure, she’s chaotic and messy and talks too much when she’s nervous—but she doesn’t deserve someone like him dictating the shape of her life. She’s not his to control.
And men like him?
They don’t like men like me. They prey on the soft ones. The vulnerable. They don’t do well when something bigger bites back.
I’ll talk to her tonight. Ease into it. Gauge just how much she’s willing to admit. But for now, I keep watching. Because I’m curious, too curious.
There’s something about her I still can’t untangle. The noise she brings. The defiance. The way she’s torn through every boundary I didn’t even realise I still enforced.
I’ve never met a woman who invited herself into my home like it was hers by default. And I’ve definitely never met one who managed to knock me out and tie me to a chair.
Yet here we are.
How can one woman be so consuming?
Kyla, my wife, would’ve liked her. She would have called her a whirlwind. She always had a soft spot for chaos like Nell.
And they’re so alike, or they were—she reminds me of the version of Kyla before the arguments and hatred. That’s the problem.
The laugh that starts in their chests. The stubbornness. The way both of them claim space without asking. It’s familiar. Too familiar. And familiarity feels like a loaded gun when you’ve already buried the thing you loved most.
Not that me and Kyla were on the best terms when she was taken, but still I owe her a lifetime of searching, to try and bring her home.
I keep telling myself that’s why I’ve been keeping my distance.
It’s not avoidance—it’s survival.
Twenty-four hours under my roof, and she’s already under my skin. Distracting me. Shifting the gravity in every room she enters.
I glance at the feed from the hallway camera—catch a flicker of ginger tail just disappearing around the corner. Straight into my room.
Boomerang.
Of course.
Can I go five minutes without someone blurring my lines or claiming a part of my life I didn’t offer?
Between Nell and that demon-cat, I’m stretched thin.
And the worst part?
I think I’m starting to enjoy it.
When Nell lunges for the cat and misses, I let out a long, exhausted sigh and rise from my chair.
