Page 143 of Nyx

"This isn't the place," he says when I take another half step forward.

"It's as good a place as any," I argue.

"Too many people," Kincaid says, his voice sharper than before. "The terror alone would get someone hurt."

"He's going to hurt her," I growl, but my feet feel locked in place.

"He's not going to do anything today," Kincaid says as if he can read the asshole's mind. "He's been too patient, waited too long for his moment. He's not going to take her out with a bullet in the middle of a crowd. That wouldn't be a win for him."

"Please advise," Apollo says through the earpiece.

I pull my eyes from Graham and track Juliet.

She's still grinning, smiling as she watches the little boy run toward his mom with his dinosaur in his hands.

His path and the path of her eyes carry him right in the direction Whitmore is standing, and I know the second she sees him.

Her entire body freezes as if she had been struck with a bullet right to the center of her chest.

"Get your girl," Kincaid says to me. "Calmly, quietly, and head back to the clubhouse."

I start in that direction before the words are fully out of his mouth, my feet carrying me with a level of confidence I don't entirely feel because the distance between us feels like miles rather than yards.

"I think it's time to end our day," Kincaid says, his voice coming through the mic. "We can start making our way to the parking lot."

The words seem innocuous enough, but they convey a mild threat level, as previously discussed in this morning's meeting. I was conferenced in before Juliet came out of her room, so I'd be fully informed about today's protocol.

Had he said, "We need to get home soon," it would convey a different threat level, meaning don't just meander to the parking lot, take the straightest path you can find.

"No place like home" would've been the highest threat level, meaning getting to safety as quickly as possible by any means necessary.

She is trembling like a leaf by the time I step in front of her, and a new level of fear hits me when I look in Whitmore's direction to see him still standing there, watching us like he doesn't have a care in the world.

"We're leaving," I tell her, pressing my palm to her lower back to urge her toward the parking lot when she seems locked in place.

She's shaking so hard her teeth are chattering as if we're standing in the Arctic.

"Can you walk?" I ask, stepping directly into her line of sight and blocking her view of Graham.

"I can carry you," I offer.

She shakes her head, tears running unimpeded down her cheeks, the pretty smile she carried all day nowhere in sight.

"I-I c-can w-walk," she stammers, her feet actually moving when I press my palm against her back again.

"We're covered," I assure her, knowing she's fighting the urge to look behind her to evaluate the threat.

I do look back when I sense someone close to us, feeling a huge sense of relief when Harley and Spade step in behind us.

If Whitmore were brave enough to try to shoot her, the bullet would be stopped by one of them first.

A sense of brotherhood hits me harder than ever before, and my gratitude for their dedication in keeping her safe feels like a personal favor rather than a job description.

The walkway grows a little crowded, as the people connected to Cerberus walk in that direction. They chatter and talk, parents speaking with kids, other members' families showing no sense of alarm but still working to leave the park.

Cerberus members are following protocol, ensuring that all non-members connected to the club have escorts back to their vehicles. Each member is responsible for their own group, and they won't leave until each of them is loaded and leaving.

With the main threat worry for today being Whitmore, I was given Juliet as my sole responsibility.