Page 142

The man glanced behind him anyway, like Kalon had rearranged reality by tone alone.

“Black coffee,” he said.

“What size?” I asked.

“Small.”

Kalon rang him up. He paid cash, no tip. Of course. Kalon poured the coffee, set it on the counter, and kept his hand on the cup until the man reached for it. Their fingers never touched, but something passed between them anyway. A silent little spark of violence, one predator informing another that the counter was only a courtesy.

The man took his coffee. “Have a good shift, Olivia,” he said. My skin crawled. The bell chimed when he left. Nobody moved for three full seconds.

Mandi whispered, “Okay, sooo, new stalker?”

“Absolutely not,” I said.

Kalon moved to the window. I followed his gaze. The man crossed the street, paused near the corner, and lifted his phone. Kalon’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and all the color left his face. “Stay here,” he said.

“Kalon.”

“Behind the counter, Liv.”

There it was. The voice beneath the soft barista. The one with death magic in it.

He slipped into the back, phone already to his ear. The swinging door settled behind him, cutting his voice into pieces.

“It’s handled.” A pause. “No, she doesn’t know.”

My stomach dropped, and I moved closer without meaning to.

Kalon’s voice came harder this time. “Then get your people off the sidewalk before she notices.”

My throat tightened. A metallic clatter rang out from the prep sink, and I jumped.

“Because if someone follows her from this shop, I’ll handle it before your boss gets the chance.” Silence. Then, quieter, “I know what I signed.”

The door swung open. Kalon stepped out, phone in hand, expression smooth again, and my head collided with his chest.

“What’s going on?” I crossed my arms.

“I took a second job.”

“What kind of job?”

He wiped his hands on a towel, slow and deliberate. “Private security.”

My brain immediately pictured him in a suit with an earpiece, expression blank while someone important walked beside him. It fit him too well. Way better than an apron and a name tag.

“That sounds badass,” I said.

“It pays well.”

My suspicion settled between us, an uneasy confirmation that Lux Corp had something to do with this new job.

I wanted to ask more, but my phone buzzed first.

NO FACE: Don’t ask Kalon questions he’s under contract to avoid.

I sucked in a breath.