Page 63 of Knot Like Other Girls

And fuck me if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought. We're here to protect her, not... whatever the hell this is becoming. But it's getting harder and harder to ignore the pull I feel toward her. The way my heart races when she smiles. The way her scentmakes me want to bury my face in her neck and never come up for air.

"Fuck," I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.

This job is going to be the death of me.

A ping from my phone offers a welcome distraction. It's an alert from one of the monitoring programs Savva set up to keep tabs on Braxley's social media presence. I open it, expecting to see another vapid post about skincare or whatever the hell passes for content these days.

Instead, my blood runs cold.

It's a direct message to Braxley's Instagram, sent from an account with no profile picture and a string of random numbers for a username.

"Your time is running out, pretty boy. Tick tock."

Well, shit.

I sit up, all traces of laziness gone. This isn't the first threatening message we've intercepted, but it's definitely the most direct. And there's something about the phrasing that sets my teeth on edge.

I tap my earpiece. "Savva, you seeing this?"

His voice crackles in my ear, tense and alert. "Yes. I'm running a trace on the account now, but I doubt we'll get much. These people aren't amateurs."

"No," I agree, my mind already racing through possibilities. "But they're getting bolder. We need to tell Roman."

"Already on it," Savva replies. "Meeting in five minutes. Guest room three."

I acknowledge and cut the connection, pushing myself off the couch. As I pass the kitchen, I catch another glimpse of Bella. She's got a smudge of flour on her cheek, and Liam's reaching out to brush it away. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that I have to look away.

Focus, Shepherd. We've got bigger problems right now.

I slip into the guest room, nodding to Roman and Cole, who are already there. Savva joins us a moment later, his tablet in hand. Liam's the last to arrive, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"What have we got?" Roman asks, his voice low and controlled. But I can see the tightness in the set of his shoulders, the hard glint in his eyes.

Savva pulls up the message on the room's main screen. "This came in about ten minutes ago. It's the third threat this week, but by far the most explicit."

"Tick tock," Cole murmurs. "They're getting impatient."

I nod, glad I'm not the only one who picked up on that. "Yeah, and that worries me. Impatient people make mistakes, but they also get desperate. We could be looking at an accelerated timeline here."

Roman's jaw clenches. "Agreed. Savva, what did the trace turn up?"

"Not much," Savva admits, frustration clear in his voice. "The account was created using a series of VPNs and proxy servers. Whoever this is, they know their tech."

"Or they hired someone who does," I point out. "We shouldn't assume our perp and our hacker are the same person."

Liam grunts in agreement. "Good point. This could be a team effort."

"Alright," Roman says, pacing the length of the room. "We need to approach this from multiple angles. Savva, keep digging into the tech side. See if you can find any patterns in the messaging, any linguistic quirks that might give us a clue about the sender."

Savva nods, already tapping away at his tablet.

"Liam, I want you to review all the security footage from the past week. Look for anyone lingering too long, any faces that show up more than once. And check the background of everydelivery person, maintenance worker, anyone who's had access to the building."

"On it," Liam says, his expression grim.

Roman turns to me. "Troy, you're on social media duty. Go through Braxley's posts, his followers, his comments. Look for anyone who seems overly invested, anyone who might have a grudge."

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