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Harper's pulse spiked. Spencer was always hyper-aware of his surroundings, but this time his movements were sharper, more deliberate. He wasn't just being cautious—he was on edge.
She grabbed her phone again, staring at the text from Vanessa, the words now feeling like a weight on her chest. The pull between her career and the man standing in front of her was suffocating.
Need you on top of this. People deserve to know who's out there.
A moment later, Spencer reappeared, his gun holstered at his side. He moved quickly, his steps urgent.
"Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice low and firm, as though he was already anticipating trouble.
Harper froze, startled by the sudden shift. The moment felt too real. Spencer was on high alert now—his protective instincts were kicking in, and it was clear he wasn't going to let her out of his sight until he felt the threat was gone. But that was the problem. The threat was never gone, was it? It was just lurking, always present.
"Spencer, it's fine," she started, but her words died as she caught the fire in his eyes. He was already moving toward the door, his gun in hand. She followed him despite her words, gripping the back of his cardigan.
"We check the apartment first," he said, scanning the darkened hallway and the quiet streets beyond. "Then we get out of here. I'm not letting you stay alone here."
"What about Boba?"
He sighed, pausing to look at her. "He'll be okay, Harper. The Replicator isn't going to take him again, that was just a play. Can you just let me get you to safety first?"
Harper reluctantly agreed. She followed him into the living room, where Spencer took a moment to survey the room, his eyes darting to every corner. It wasn't like Spencer to leave anything to chance, and the tension was thick in the air, every moment feeling more dangerous than the last.
