Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
His low voice was haunted. I reached for him without thinking, pressing my palm lightly against the inked skin just over his ribs. I didn’t ask what it said. Somehow, I knew the words weren’t meant to be shared—just carried.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He wrapped his hand around my wrist to hold my palm in place. “I carry them with me every day, but the weight is lighter with you by my side.”
His confession touched me so deeply, and I wanted to share another piece of myself too.
“My dad died when I was sixteen. It was a construction site accident. Faulty beams because someone cut corners where it counted most. That’s what started me down this path. I didn’t want to be another person looking the other way.”
His thumb brushed against my cheek. “He’d be proud of you.” I smiled faintly, but before I could reply, he added softly, “I am.”
My breath caught in my throat. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’m startin’ to.”
I didn’t pull away. Couldn’t, even if I wanted to.
His hand stayed cupped around my cheek, anchoring me to him. We stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, something quiet and solid blooming in the space between us.
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting the moment. Reid’s jaw clenched as he rolled onto his back, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
“Fuckin’ timing,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face before raising his voice. “Yeah?”
“Need to check in on Peyton,” came the muffled reply.
I sat up, tugging the covers a little higher, even though I was wearing an oversized shirt. “It’s okay.”
The tension in Reid’s shoulders eased when he heard Blade’s voice. He rolled off the mattress, grabbing a tee off the chair and yanking it over his head. Then he strode across the room and jerked the door open. “Hey.”
Blade stepped inside. “Sorry it’s so early. I’m on my way to the hospital but wanted to make sure Peyton was still good before I started my shift.”
“Thanks, man.” Reid clapped him on the shoulder. “Appreciate it.”
I flashed a smile at Blade. “Yes, thank you.”
Reid crossed his arms and leaned against the wall while Blade turned to me. “Mind if I take a look?”
I shifted, making room for him to sit on the edge of the mattress. “My shoulder’s still sore, but not nearly as bad as yesterday. I haven’t needed the prescription pain meds.”
“Good,” Blade said, carefully examining the bruising. “No signs of deeper damage, which means you should heal up nicely. You’ll probably be achy for a few more days. Keep up with the ibuprofen, hydrate, and try not to overdo it.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Reid cut in.
Blade didn’t even blink. “Of course you will.”
His dry tone made me bite back a smile.
Blade reminded me of warning signs to watch for, then he stood. “You’re doing well. I’ll check in again tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely grateful.
As Blade passed Reid on his way out, he muttered under his breath, “Keep takin’ good care of her.”
Reid dropped his arms to his sides. “Don’t need you to remind me.”
The door shut behind Blade with a solid click.
We just got settled back in bed when Reid’s phone buzzed from the nightstand, vibrating hard enough to rattle against the wood. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening as he picked it up.
Turning slightly away from me, he muttered, “What do you need, Deviant?”
His tone was all business—low, rough, and clipped.
I couldn’t hear what Deviant said, but I watched Reid’s shoulders tense. His hand flexed around his phone.
“Send it to me,” he said after a moment. “We’ll take a look.”
He ended the call and stared at the screen for a beat. “Deviant found security footage from a couple of different sites.”
My stomach tightened. “What kind?”
His jaw clenched. “Of someone tampering with the foundation supports. No doubt it was intentional damage. More fucking sabotage.”
I sat up straighter, adrenaline kicking in fast. “How many sites?”
“More than one. That’s all he said so far.”
There was a beat of silence before Reid grabbed the laptop off his desk and opened his email. Tapping on the first video, he sat down next to me so we could both watch. The quality wasn’t great—grainy nighttime footage from a motion-activated camera. A man moved through the shadows, crouching near one of the load-bearing beams. His face never turned fully toward the camera.
“Something is familiar about his profile,” Reid muttered, sounding frustrated.
We watched another clip. Different site, same figure. Same gait—moving with purpose, knowing exactly where to go and what to do.
“Do you recognize him?” I asked.
Reid exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Feels like I should. Can’t place from where, though. The connection is right fucking there, but I can’t quite grab it.”
He shook his head, then watched me for a long second, then settled the computer on my lap. “There’s more. Deviant sent over everything he’s got—video, permits, site maps. We want you to go through it all.”