Page 91 of My Vigilante Valentine

“Menace, if I wanted a podcast in my ear while I fought crime, I would’ve subscribed to one.”

“What? Stop. That might be your best idea yet. We should totally do a podcast.”

Jax pinched the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely not.”

I beamed. “Fine. We’ll work on reducing the chatter next time. But just to confirm—you’re saying being part of a team is a net positive?”

He exhaled sharply, then pulled me close, his hands bracketing my hips in a way that made itvery clearhe no longer valued having personal space.

“It’s not terrible.” His voice had dropped, low and deliberate. “Especially if it means I get to do this at the end.”

And then he was kissing me again.

Slower this time. Like we had all the time in the world.

But after tonight—knowing this was just a side quest and our biggest battle was still ahead?

One thing was very clear: Menace and The Blade couldn’t afford to take a single second for granted.

21

wholly unprepared

I arrived at Luna’s apartment before sunrise, using the key she’d given me yesterday.

She’d handed it over so casually—like it was nothing. Just pressed it into my palm with a wink and a husky, “For vigilante emergencies only.”

That part had done something to me, but I hadn’t unpacked it yet.

Didn’t plan to.

Her living room was exactly what I expected—cozy, chaotic, but somehow… balanced. Like her.

Plants hung near every window, the shadows of their leaves throwing swirling patterns across the walls like abstract art. A coffee table overflowed with notebooks, hair accessories, and a poster covered in glittery stickers.

While she was in her room getting ready to train, I moved her furniture to make space for her to learn some basic ways to protect herself. We’d been discussing things in theory in the few days since our first field mission, but today? We’d do some stuff on the mat.

Self-defense stuff, that is.

I lifted her cluttered coffee table with ease, pushing that thought away as I set it in the doorway to her kitchenette. My movements were efficient and calculated—the way I would approach today’s training and the way I approached everything.

Well, everything except for Luna herself.

She had a tendency to make efficiency impossible, and she was great at turning my control into an illusion. Even now, I caught myself slowing as I let my gaze linger on things that had no business holding my attention.

Like the fact that her TV remote had a tracking tile taped to it like a lost sock that’d been lost too many times. Or that her plant mister was labeled “Life Support Juice.”

And now I was supposed to teach her to fight? Hand-to-hand? With an attacker?

Talking about strategies for escaping bad situations or watching videos with her showing tips for evasion were one thing.

But making it physical had a different, heavier feeling—a crushing wave of pride mixed with anxiety.

Pride because she wanted this—wanted to be stronger, smarter, harder to hurt. She refused to be a damsel… even though that was exactly what we needed her to act like in order to draw out The Valentine Villain.

And then, anxiety because it meant admitting she might actually need these skills one day. That she could face real danger—not just on this mission or the next… but because of her connection tome.

It was my new favorite fear when I used to have none.

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