Page 18 of My Vigilante Valentine

Or planning a heist.

With that tortured-soul aura he clung to? Any of the above felt plausible.

I sighed, and instead of continuing down that road to nowhere, I busied myself with the rest of the front-of-house closing duties while he worked.

His quiet presence didn’t bother me.

Oddly enough, it made me feel... safe.

After I finished up behind the counter, I made my way to the back room and flicked on the small TV mounted in the corner—desperate for some kind of white noise. Then, I settled at my chic but battered desk, skimming the invoices I needed to pay before they became my problem tomorrow.

As a commercial ended and the nightly news began, the overly polished smile of a local anchor greeted me. Her perfectly coiffed hair, bright yellow suit, and dramatic eyeliner worked overtime to distract from the grim headline scrolling beneath her.

Valentine Villain? Police Investigate Second Couple’s Murder.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the soothing background noise I was looking for.

And…shoot.

Maybe I shouldn’t have let Wednesday go out tonight.

The anchor’s smile vanished as she shifted into her serious reporter voice. “Tonight, authorities are investigating what appears to be a potential serial killer targeting couples in love. The killer, now dubbed the ‘Valentine Villain’—“

“Catchy,” I muttered.

“…has left a chilling signature at each crime scene: a vintage Valentine’s Day card, and a small knife, embedded directly through a heart-shaped doily.”

The screen switched to a montage—blurred crime scene photos, police tape fluttering under streetlights, flickering candles from makeshift memorials.

I grimaced, biting the end of my pen.

The contrast between the delicate lace of the doilies and the violence they marked made my stomach twist.

The broadcast cut to a new face—a reporter standing outside the latest crime scene. “A second couple was found dead late last night, echoing a disturbingly similar scene from two nights ago,” she said in that bleak, somber tone they always used when things werereallybad. “Authorities are investigating potential connections between the victims.”

I leaned back. Two couples in the span of a week?

My true crime hat went on in a flash. How bad would it get when he escalated?

My thoughts swirled as the anchor came back on, looking straight into the camera’s soul. “Authorities are considering whether this could be leading up to something bigger as Valentine’s Day approaches, though officials urge the public not to panic. Still, many are asking: will the police stop the killer, or will The Blade step in before we’re faced with a tragic grand finale on February 14th?”

I tilted my head, wondering if any local offices had a betting pool on that front. Crush or no crush… I’d seen The Blade in action. If I had a bunch of money to throw down?

I’d bet on him.

The anchor’s face softened, givingconcerned-yet-hopeful. “One thing is certain: the city is on edge, and couples are advised to remain vigilant until this killer is stopped.”

Oh, nice. Love that for us.

As if the threat of catfishing or hidden family drama weren’t enough to make anyone wary of dating, now we had this to worry about.

Well, not that it affected me.

No boyfriend, no girlfriend, no awkward situationships. Just me, the coffee shop that ruled my life, and an apartment full of indoor plants that were somehow still alive.

I fidgeted with my pen, pretending the numbers on the receipts before me mattered more than the growing knot in my chest.

But the image of that vintage Valentine’s card—with its delicate, innocent charm twisted into something sinister—lingered like a green smoothie’s aftertaste.

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