Page 56 of The Reaper
It was time for The Vanguard to tip the first domino.
16
MEGHAN
The door shut behind us with a muted click, sealing out the city and locking in something much quieter, much hotter.
I let go of Caleb’s hand and stepped ahead of him, my feet whispering across the polished wood floors of the restaurant. The ambient light still glowed faintly over the bar from where I’d left it earlier, casting golden reflections on the countertops. The air inside Promenade always smelled faintly of citrus and rendered fat—tonight, it carried something else, too.
Anticipation.
I set the empty bakery bag on the counter and turned toward him, already planning to lead him up the stairs to my living space. My fingers itched to touch him again, to see if the fire we’d sparked would reignite.
But before I could speak, before I could even breathe him in again, something on the hostess stand caught my eye.
A piece of paper.
Cream-colored. Folded. Placed precisely where it hadn’t been earlier.
I stilled.
It wasn’t a receipt or a note from a server. It was the same kind of heavy-stock paper as the one from a few days ago, the one I’d brushed off.
I crossed the room slowly, every step suddenly weighted. My fingers hesitated before picking it up, the faintest tremble skating down my body.
Unfolding it felt like unsealing a curse.
No reservation necessary. I already have a table.
My throat went tight.
Behind me, Caleb’s footsteps were quiet but quick. He’d seen my body change, the way I held the note like it was made of glass and venom.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice low and already edged with warning.
I handed it to him without a word.
He read it once. Then again. His jaw flexed. “Have you gotten something like this before?”
I hesitated. The air felt tighter. Thicker.
“There was another one,” I said finally. “The day you came in, actually.”
His gaze sharpened. “What did it say?”
“‘I’m coming to dinner.’ Same paper. Same neat handwriting.”
He stared at me like I’d just told him I’d been sleeping with a knife under my pillow and calling it security.
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
I hesitated. “I told Finn,” I said quietly. “He thought it was strange, too, but we both figured it was just some critic trying to be clever. It didn’t feel threatening at the time.”
The truth itched at me, the part I hadn’t said out loud. That a piece of me had wondered if it was Caleb himself. He’d shown up out of nowhere, larger than life, with eyes thatseemed to see straight through me. It wasn’t impossible to imagine him slipping into my world before we really knew each other, watching, assessing, leaving a cryptic little message. And if not him, maybe someone else powerful enough to matter—a key critic, someone with reach. Either way, I’d wanted it to be positive.
Caleb’s expression didn’t budge. “But it feels threatening now.”
I met his gaze, pulse thudding. “Yeah. Maybe so.”
