Page 6 of My Vigilante Valentine

But this?

This was something else entirely.

I crouched on a low rooftop across from the crime scene, muscles tense as I watched the cops work beneath the flickering glow of a busted streetlamp.

Two bodies. A man and a woman.

Arranged.

That was the part that made my stomach tighten. They weren’t just left here—they were positioned with intent. Their bodies curved toward each other, heads nearly touching, their arms and legs bent at careful angles.

A heart.

A twisted, grotesque heart.

My jaw locked. This whole thing was a clear warning I couldn’t shake. This wasn’t a robbery gone wrong. The copsmilling around down there weren’t going to find any missing wallets or jewelry.

I watched as the forensic team methodically did their thing, marking evidence, snapping pictures, murmuring theories.

Studying it from my bird’s eye view, I clocked the thick black zip ties binding their wrists and ankles, and the small, heart-shaped doily pinned to the dirt with a knife.

Thin white lace soaked in red.

Next to it, propped carefully against the woman’s arm, a Valentine’s Day card. Vintage, from the looks of it.

I exhaled slowly. This was bigger than tonight’s victims. I was sure of it.

Shifting my weight, I honed in on the detectives standing over the bodies. The wind carried their voices, but not well enough.

I dropped down from the rooftop, landing light on the fire escape before scaling lower. It was quick, with my muscles reacting faster than they should have—a byproduct of the mission that changed everything.

Strength, speed, reflexes—I had all of it in spades.

But hearing?

Not so much.

Would’ve been nice, considering my entire job relied on staying two steps ahead.

Still, I’d take what I could get.

I settled into the shadows just outside the crime scene perimeter, close enough now to make out every word.

“You seeing this?” a detective muttered, pointing toward the bodies with his pen.

Specifically, pointing to the thick, black zip ties the killer had used to bind them.

His younger partner crouched for a better look. “Yeah. Tell me I’m seeing it wrong.”

“You’re not,” the older one grunted.

My arms folded against my chest, irritation flickering low in my ribs. I already knew where this was going.

The younger detective sighed. “Well, that’s convenient. Who else in this city uses these?”

And, there it is.

I bit back a dry laugh, shaking my head.

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