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“Quinn, what’s your read?” I whisper, tracking the approaching individuals closely.
“Definitely a pair of reporters,” Quinn replies after a moment, suspicion coloring his tone. “They have a camera, mics, the works.”
“Hey.” Dash’s voice comes through the line with a bit of static. “I think I know that guy. He helped me out at the bar last night when that alpha was getting aggressive. Broke up the fight before it got nasty. I owe him one.”
I frown, recalling Dash’s drunken state from the previous night. “Did he say why he was at the bar? Seems convenient he’s here now.”
“Nah, just said he was passing through. But he seemed like a good guy,” Dash replies, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“Stay on them,” I instruct, gesturing for Zane to edge closer while Dash oversees the thinning crowd. “Friend or foe, Dash?”
“He seemed like a good guy.” Dash’s eyes light up as he defends the complete stranger. His judgement is often clouded by a single act of kindness. I sigh, knowing how quickly Dash’s heart can be won over.
As Zane advances, the reporters come into sharper focus. They look determined, pushing through the remaining crowd with practiced ease. The man, with his crisp suit and sharp eyes, leads the way, his cameraman trailing behind.
“Excuse me!” the reporter calls out, his voice carrying over the din. “Mayor Hargrove! A moment of your time, please!”
Zane intercepts them, his presence imposing enough to make the reporter hesitate. “This area is off-limits,” he states firmly. “You need to back up.”
The reporter squares his shoulders, clearly not one to be easily intimidated. “We’re with Channel 8 News. We have a right to be here.”
“Not today, you don’t,” Zane replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Please step back.”
The cameraman shifts nervously, glancing around as if looking for an escape route. The reporter, however, stands his ground, his eyes narrowing. “We have questions that need answers. The public deserves to know Mayor Hargrove’s infrastructure plans.”
“Sir, I’m asking you nicely.” Zane’s voice takes on a harder edge. “Step back.”
Seeing the potential for escalation, I step in, placing a hand on Zane’s shoulder. “We understand you have a job to do,” I say, keeping my tone calm but firm, “but so do we, and right now, our job is to ensure the mayor’s safety, so please step back and let us do our job.”
The reporter’s eyes flash with frustration, but he finally relents, taking a step back. His shoulders relax slightly, and he reaches his hand out to shake. “All right. Name is Logan Pierce.”
“Logan.” I address him directly, my eyes meeting his with a calculated stare as I shake his hand. “Malachi. Your questions can wait until we’re done ensuring everyone’s safety.”
Logan raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. “Understood, but we will be following up, Malachi.”
I nod curtly, watching as Logan and his cameraman retreat. There’s something about him that feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it just yet. It doesn’t really matter, though, because I’ll never see the guy again anyway.
With the immediate threat defused, I turn back to the stage, where Hargrove’s aides are ushering him away, their expressions a mix of annoyance and concern.
“Let’s wrap this up,” I tell Dash and Zane, who both agree in unison. “I’m tired of being here.”
“Heard that,” Dash mutters.
“Thai for dinner?” Quinn pipes up.
As the park empties out, I take a moment to scan the area, ensuring there are no lingering threats. Zane and Dash fall into step beside me, our formation instinctive and practiced.
“Damn reporters.” Dash chuckles, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “They could have caused a real panic. Reminds me of my younger days, minus the cameras.”
Ironic, because not even a decade ago, he was one of those kids. Some days, he still is with his antics.
“Yeah, but they didn’t,” I reply, clapping him on the shoulder, “and we handled it. Besides, the reporters should be here, and Hargrove is acting foolish for not wanting to deal with them.”
“You aren’t going to believe this!” Quinn’s voice bursts through my ear with excitement.
Dash lounges on the ground, kicking one leg over the other, his sunglasses perched on his nose and his hands behind his head.
“Try me,” Dash drawls lazily, a hint of amusement in his tone as his eyes flutter closed.
