Page 48 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

My stomach tightened as I looked at the plain brown package. It wasn’t large, just a little bigger than a book, and it bore no markings or return address. “Thank you,” I said, managing a small smile.

The barista nodded and walked away, leaving me alone with the package. I stared at it, my heart pounding as a sense of unease crept over me. There was no reason to think it was anything more than a gift or a note—maybe Hudson had arranged some kind of surprise. But deep down, I knew better.

Taking a deep breath, I slid my fingers under the edge of the tape and peeled it back. The paper tore easily, revealing a thin folder inside. I opened it cautiously, my breath catching when I saw the contents.

A photograph.

It was a candid shot, slightly grainy but clear enough to make my blood run cold. It was of me and Hudson, taken just a few days ago as we walked through the park. We were laughing, our bodies close, completely unaware of the camera that had captured us.

My hands began to shake as I turned the photo over, and my stomach twisted at the words scrawled in bold, sharp letters on the back:

“We’re not done yet.”

The room seemed to tilt,the noise of the café fading into the background as my heart thundered in my chest. I stared at the words, the reality of them crashing over me like a wave. This wasn’t just a warning—it was a promise. A reminder that no matter how far we’d come, we weren’t free.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the photograph as I forced myself to look at it again. Whoever had taken it had been close—too close. The angle suggested they’d been following us, watching, waiting. And I hadn’t even noticed.

My first instinct was to call Hudson. My hand went to my phone, but I stopped myself, my mind racing. If I told him about this now, he’d come rushing back, ready to take on the world to keep me safe. But what could he do against an enemy we couldn’t see?

I needed to think. To process. To figure out what this meant and what our next move should be.

The bell jingled again,and I looked up sharply, half-expecting to see someone watching me. But it was just another customer, a man in a suit juggling a laptop bag and a coffee cup. My pulse slowed slightly, but the tension in my chest didn’t ease.

I shoved the photo back into the folder and slipped it into my bag, my movements hurried. The sense of safety I’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by a gnawing fear that tightened around me like a vice.

I paid for my tea and left the café, my eyes darting to every shadow, every passing car. The sunny street that had felt so welcoming earlier now seemed full of threats, every stranger a potential danger.

By the timeI got back to the apartment, my nerves were frayed. I closed the door behind me, locking it with trembling hands,and set my bag on the table. The folder felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric, its presence impossible to ignore.

I paced the living room, my mind spinning with questions. Who had sent it? Was it Jared? Someone from The Fold? Were they watching us now? The thought made my skin crawl, and I rubbed my arms, trying to shake the chill.

The sound of the key turning in the lock made me jump, and I spun around as the door opened. Hudson stepped inside, his expression shifting from relaxed to alert the moment he saw me.

“Naomi?” he said, closing the door behind him. “What’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. I didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want to see the worry in his eyes or feel the weight of his protectiveness smothering me. But I knew I couldn’t keep this from him.

“I got a package,” I said finally, my voice trembling.

Hudson frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of package?”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the folder, handing it to him without a word. He opened it, his jaw tightening as he looked at the photograph. When he turned it over and read the message, his hand clenched around the edge of the paper.

“Where did this come from?” he asked, his voice sharp.

“The café,” I said. “A barista gave it to me. She said a man dropped it off but didn’t leave a name.”

Hudson cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “They’re watching us.”

“I know,” I said softly, my throat tightening.

He looked at me then, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and fear. “We’ll deal with this, Naomi. I promise.”

I nodded, but the words felt hollow. The fear I’d thought was gone had come roaring back, and as my hands shook, the world seemed to tilt.

The storm wasn’t over. It had just begun.

Chapter Thirty-Six

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