Page 76 of Can't Stop Watching
The thought churns acid in my gut. People die in the blind spots, Dane.
I slow at a red light and watch Langford disappear into the gleaming glass maw of his office building. The city swallows him whole, and for a moment, I'm left sitting in my car—just a man, not a shadow. Just Dane Wolfe, not some avenging angel.
What the hell am I doing?
The question hits me like a round to the chest. Despite spending time with her, the case still pulled me away. This is this time spent away from Lila—stale coffee, piss breaks in gas station bathrooms, and mind-numbing stakeouts—all to track aman who might be playing me and isn't nearly as awful as I suspect while I neglect what's actually good in my life right now.
I think about this earlier. Lila sitting on my lap at my kitchen counter, feeding me a bite of her favorite Boston cream from Sugar & Spice. The way she laughed when cream smeared across my chin, how she leaned forward to kiss it away. The sunlight catching in her hair, turning those auburn waves into fire.
"You're making that face again," she'd said.
"What face?"
"The one where you're thinking too hard about something dark." Her finger traced the line between my eyebrows. "Come back to me."
And I did. For those few hours, I was just a man enjoying his woman's company. No stakeouts, no stalking, no blood debts to pay.
But here I am again, circling the drain of someone else's depravity. Playing guardian angel to girls who don't know I exist or care. Hunting monsters to keep the nightmares at bay.
When did I decide it was my job to save every potential Gianna out there? When did I appoint myself the world's fucked-up warrior?
The light turns green. I don't move. A horn blares behind me.
My phone rings. It's Milo.
"Found campus security footage. Sarah left dorm two days ago at 5:43 PM. There's a gap in the footage, so no return recorded. She took her phone with her though. I tracked it pinging off other towers."
"Why the gap in the footage?"
"Could be several things. Camera maintenance, power outage, faulty equipment... or our rich boyfriend paying the right person to look the other way. Campus security isn't exactly Fort Knox."
Fucking perfect. The knot in my gut tightens another notch. I grip the phone tighter, decision forming like a bullet in the chamber.
"Keep watching that phone, Milo," I say. "I want to know the second it moves. Hell, if it twitches, I want a notification."
"What if it's just, you know, her sitting in her dorm watching Netflix?"
"Then you'll be bored. I can live with that." I pull a hard U-turn, cutting across traffic to head uptown. "I'm done waiting for maintenance windows and clean entries. I'm hitting Langford's brownstone. Now."
"Jesus Christ, Wolfe." The panic in Milo's voice carries even through shitty cell reception. "That's breaking and entering in broad daylight. In fucking Manhattan."
"Then I better not get caught." I weave between a delivery truck and taxi, ignoring the chorus of horns. "Send me everything you've got on the building's security. Points of entry, alarm system, cameras. All of it."
"This is fucking stupid. You realize that, right? The kind of security those places have?—"
"Then make it un-stupid," I snap. "You're the tech genius. Earn your paycheck."
A long pause, nothing but keyboard clacking. "You're going to jail, and I'm going to visit you wearing an 'I told you so' T-shirt."
"If I'm in jail, you'll be in the cell next to me. Accessory." I turn onto 72nd, slowing as I approach the block. "So how about we both stay out of prison?"
"Fine. But I'm logging this under 'idiotic shit Dane made me do' for my therapist." More typing. "Sending what I have now. Building has pretty tight security, but there's a window of opportunity. Garbage collection in thirty minutes. Service door at the east alley entrance."
I park three blocks away, pulling a baseball cap low over my eyes. Part of me knows this is reckless—crossing lines I shouldn't cross, risking everything on a hunch. But the other part, the part that still sees Gianna's wet, pleading eyes, doesn't give a shit about lines anymore.
Some sacrifices are worth making. Some sins worth committing.
Because I've met other men like Langford, and they don't just disappear girls. They erase them—bit by bit, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but a shell with empty eyes. I've watched it happen from behind my father's office door. Hid in silence while monsters in expensive suits discussed the disposal of problems.
