Chapter 6
She had learned to stop hoping. Had learned to stop searching for warmth in places where it didn’t exist.
Instead, she had found comfort in the things she could control—books, numbers, data, logic.
Logic made sense. Logic didn’t lie. Logic didn’t promise you forever and then leave in the middle of the night without a word.
But still, there was this part of her. This reckless, secret part that wanted more.
That wanted a love so deep it bordered on destruction. That wanted a devotion so consuming it blurred the line between obsession and worship.
And she hated that she wanted it.
Mika turned the page, her heartbeat slow and steady, her mind slipping into the story as if she could live inside it.
Because here, in Leather and Lace, she didn’t have to be the girl no one had ever fought for.
Here, she could pretend she was the one worth burning the world for.
Seamus hadn’t meant to stop.
But after days of hunting, of walking the streets of her neighborhood, of tracking patterns and narrowing down where she might live—he had finally found her.
And she had been here the whole time.
He had expected a lot of things. A corporate office, a gym, some unremarkable coffee shop where people wasted time scrolling through their phones. But this? A dark romance bookstore?
That was unexpected.
Seamus stood at the edge of the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, the steady hum of the city wrapping around him like static. Through the large front window of the bookstore, she sat curled into a leather chair, the glow of the warm lighting casting her in soft gold.
The woman who had seen him on the subway.
The woman who had run from him, but never screamed. Never reported him. Never did the one thing every rational person should have done after witnessing a murder.
And now she sat, utterly unaware of him, lost in a book, her brows slightly drawn in concentration.
Seamus exhaled slowly, his sharp green eyes dragging over her, noting every detail. The way she tucked her legs under her like she had done this a thousand times before. The way her fingers idly smoothed over the edges of the pages as if she loved the feel of them.
The way her lips parted ever so slightly, like whatever she was reading had reached inside her and touched something deep.
She was absorbed. Completely lost in it.
Seamus tilted his head, intrigued.
Leather and Lace.
The name of the bookstore was scrawled in elegant gold script on the window. He had never stepped foot in a place like this, but he knew what it was. A shop that catered to women who liked their stories twisted in just the right way.
A place filled with books about dangerous men with bloodstained hands and obsessive devotion.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
What exactly was she looking for in those pages?
Because Mika wasn’t a woman playing pretend. She had seen a real monster in the flesh.
She had locked eyes with him, had looked into the abyss, and instead of breaking—she had run.
Smart.
Calculated.
And yet… she was here.
Seamus let his gaze linger on her, watching as she turned a page with deliberate slowness, completely unaware of the predator standing just beyond the glass.
He had followed people before. Had tracked them like animals, studied their lives, learned their routines until they became predictable.
But Mika was not predictable.
She had made herself into a question. A contradiction he didn’t yet have the answer to.
What kind of woman walked through life knowing when to keep her mouth shut?
What kind of woman read books about monsters and wanted them?
The thought stirred something dark in his chest, something unfamiliar and unsettling.
This was a mistake.
He should leave.
Instead, Seamus took one slow step closer.
And watched.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then another.
He stood there, unmoving, as the night deepened, as people came and went, stepping in and out of the store, their lives continuing as if he weren’t there. As if he weren’t a shadow in the dark, watching her, learning her.
And the entire time—she never noticed.
Never once looked up. Never once felt his eyes on her.
She was completely unaware of just how close danger had come.
Seamus felt something coil low in his gut.
Interesting.
She should have sensed him by now.
Most people, even those without training, would have felt something—a shift in the air, a prickle at the nape of their neck, a sudden, unexplained urge to glance over their shoulder.
But Mika?
She was too caught up in whatever world she had fallen into.
And that made him wonder—what was she running from?
Because a woman who ignored her survival instincts like that wasn’t just careless.
She was hiding from something bigger than him.
Seamus smirked, exhaling slowly as he finally—finally—took a step back, slipping into the shadows as effortlessly as he had appeared.
He had found her.
And now?
Now, the game truly began.
Mika finally closed her book, stretching slightly as she shifted in the oversized leather chair. The world she had been immersed in faded as reality settled back in. The dim glow of the bookstore, the muted jazz humming in the background, the faint scent of old paper and vanilla—it was familiar, comforting. But the night had grown late, and she knew she needed to head home.
She stood, tucking the book under her arm, and made her way toward the counter, exchanging a few quiet words with Lucille as she purchased her new escape. With the paper bag securely in her grasp, she pulled on her coat and stepped out into the cool night air.
Unaware of the second book now nestled inside her bag.
Seamus was already moving.
He had watched her for hours, learning the way she moved, the way she disappeared so easily into the world around her. But now, she had nowhere to disappear to. He wasn’t going to lose her again.
He followed her at a distance, his steps practiced, silent, his presence blending into the city like he belonged to it. She walked with purpose, but not caution. That intrigued him. She wasn’t afraid.
Not of the night. Not of the shadows. Not even of the possibility that someone might be watching her.
She should be.
Mika moved through the streets, her path familiar, instinctual. She wasn’t checking her surroundings. She wasn’t looking over her shoulder. She didn’t know he was there.
That fact sent something dark curling through him.
How many times had she walked home like this? Alone. Vulnerable. Completely unaware of the predator at her back?
The thought unsettled him more than it should have.
Seamus knew people. He knew how they moved, how they operated. And he had spent enough time hunting her to know that she wasn’t stupid. She was calculated. Sharp. But right now, she was being reckless.
And recklessness got people killed.