Page 38 of Tempest’s Torment

"I know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not leaving."

"Okay." I don't push it. Running from her own home because he slid a piece of paper under her door is exactly what he wants. "Then I'm staying."

Neither of us speaks. She watches me for a long moment, the same cautious look she gave me in the hallway that first morning. Like she's waiting to see what I do next.

"You don't have to do that," she says.

"I know."

"It's not..." She stops and pauses for a moment before she starts again. "I've been dealing with this alone for three years. I don't need⁠—"

"I'm not offering because I think you can't handle it." I keep my voice level. "I'm staying because someone put an unsigned note under your door tonight and I don't know yet how he got into this building. Until Ghost tells me differently, I'm not leaving you here without someone on the other side of that wall."

She holds my gaze for a long moment. She's been alone with this for three years; she's learned to function alone with it. The offer of backup isn't something she knows what to do with yet.

She uncrosses her arms and gets to her feet.

"I'll make coffee," she says.

I step into the hallway while the coffee brews and I pull up Ghost's number.

He answers on the second ring. "Tempest."

"I need you."

He doesn't hesitate. "Address?"

"I’m at Lilah’s,” I tell him.

I can hear him moving. "I’ll be there in fifteen minutes." He ends the call and I go back inside.

She's at the counter with her back to me, two mugs already waiting. I sit in the same chair as before and watch as she pours the coffee. Once she’s done, she carries one mug over and sets it on the table in front of me before taking her own back to the couch.

Sitting, she tucks her knees up and wraps her arms around her legs. Her bag's on the floor beside her. She's calmer than she was a few minutes ago, but only on the surface. Every few seconds, her eyes find the envelope before she drags them away again.

I wait a moment before I say anything, giving her the chance to settle into the chair. "The SUV was outside the florist twice before yesterday," I say.

She looks at her mug. "I know."

"You logged it."

"I log everything," she says with a shrug. "Then I spend an hour convincing myself I imagined it. When something feels wrong, I file it, and then I talk myself out of it because the alternative is..." She stops.

"What?"

"Believing it's real." Her voice is soft and low. "If I let every threat become real, I stop functioning. So I wait, I look for proof, and then I spend the night telling myself I'm overreacting until I almost believe it."

"That's not overreacting."

"No." She looks at the envelope. "It's not."

"You said Omen moved you," I say. "Did you stay in contact with him?"

"No direct contact, he said it was safer. I met a friend of his, Lorenzo, he’s become my check-in point." She wraps both hands around the mug. "Lorenzo mentioned having someone monitoring me." She looks at me. "They sent you to watch me."

"Lorenzo asked me to keep an eye on things as I live across the hall," I tell her. "I wasn't surveilling you, I was watching for whatever's been watching you."