Page 42 of Razor
Outside, Torque maintained his vigil, watching for threats in the darkness.Inside, I followed my husband to bed, grateful for the network of guardians he'd assembled around us—and for the quiet, steady strength that had already begun to heal wounds I'd thought permanent.Whatever came next—Tyler, Mustang, the uncertain future—we would face it together, surrounded by the coalition of protectors Razor had built through sheer force of will and the newfound power of family bonds.
CHAPTER NINE
Ophelia
The security monitor bathed my face in its blue glow as I cycled through camera feeds for what must have been the hundredth time tonight.Dante had been asleep for hours, his small body sprawled across his race car bed in peaceful oblivion while I maintained my lonely vigil.Three nights of quiet had almost—almost—convinced me that Tyler had lost our trail, that my parents had given up their search.But the familiar twist of anxiety never fully left my stomach, not even with the protection rotation Razor had established.Tonight, with him away at an emergency club meeting, that twist had tightened into a knot that made it impossible to sleep.
Loch patrolled outside, his distinctive silhouette passing by the east camera every fourteen minutes with clockwork precision.The knowledge of his presence should have been comforting.Instead, I found myself holding my breath between each circuit, counting the seconds until he reappeared.
I sipped lukewarm coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste.The kitchen clock read 2:17 AM.Razor had texted an hour ago that the meeting was running long—something about the Martinelli shipment requiring additional security planning.I'd responded with a simple "We're fine," though the words felt hollow even as I typed them.
My eyes burned from staring at the screens, but I kept scanning each view methodically.Front yard: empty except for Loch's motorcycle parked beside the garage.Side yard: still and quiet, the motion sensor light occasionally triggering when the neighbor's cat stalked through the bushes.Backyard: shadows shifting with the breeze, the sandbox Razor had built for Dante barely visible in the gloom.
And then, on the street view: a black SUV.
It hadn't been there ten minutes ago.I leaned forward, heart suddenly hammering against my ribs.The vehicle was parked across the street, headlights off, engine presumably silent since I hadn't noticed its arrival.Dark tinted windows revealed nothing of who might be inside, watching.
"Just a neighbor's visitor," I whispered to myself, the words evaporating in the stillness of the kitchen.
But neighbors didn't receive visitors at 2 AM in vehicles with tinted windows.Not in this quiet, upper-middle-class suburb where Razor had built his fortress of normalcy.
My fingers trembled slightly as I used the touchpad to zoom in on the license plate.The system Razor had installed was expensive, high-definition—a fact I'd teased him about but now felt pathetically grateful for.The plate came into focus, the numbers and letters suddenly burning into my retinas with terrible familiarity: JXD-4917.
My lungs seemed to collapse, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.I knew that plate.Had seen it countless times in the driveway of my parents' estate, belonging to Kenneth Walters—my father's personal attorney, the man who had orchestrated every legal maneuver in their attempts to control me, to lay claim to Dante, to access the inheritance my grandmother had left directly to me.
The monitor beeped with an alert, drawing my attention to another screen: MOTION DETECTED – PROPERTY LINE NORTH.
I switched views, fingers slipping on the touchpad.The north camera showed the side of the house adjacent to a narrow strip of landscaped yard.Something—someone—moved between the decorative shrubs that lined our property.Just a shadow, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it if not for the system's confirmation.
My hand reached automatically for my phone, but I hesitated.Loch was out there.If I texted him about possible movement, he'd investigate.But what if that was the plan?Draw him to one side of the property while someone else approached from another angle?
I cycled frantically through the cameras again.The SUV remained in position, a black sentinel watching our house.No movement on the east side where Loch had patrolled minutes ago.Nothing visible in the backyard.The front door security camera showed an empty porch.
My phone buzzed against the table, the screen lighting up with a notification.Unknown number.I stared at it, a cold dread spreading through my chest.Three days of quiet, of believing we might actually be safe, shattered by one vehicle and one text.
I picked up the phone, swiping to read the message:
Ophelia, darling, we've been so worried.We need to talk about Dante's future and this unfortunate situation you've created.Family meeting tomorrow, 1 PM at Bellini's.I've reserved our usual table.Come alone—we only want what's best for you both.Mother.
The familiar mixture of false concern, thinly veiled demands, and emotional manipulation hit me like a physical blow.Not even Tyler at his worst had mastered the particular cruelty of weaponized "love" that my mother had perfected over decades.
This unfortunate situation you've created.As if fleeing an abusive relationship to protect my son was a minor social faux pas.
We only want what's best for you both.Their version of "best" had always meant what was best for the family name, for appearances, for my father's political connections.
Our usual table.Bellini's—the upscale Italian restaurant downtown where my parents had taken me whenever they needed to maintain the appearance of a happy family, always ensuring we were seated at the corner table with the best visibility to other patrons.A public location where I couldn't make a scene without embarrassing myself.
Another alert beeped: MOTION DETECTED – PROPERTY LINE WEST.
I switched to that camera, blood rushing in my ears.Another shadow moved along the fence line, deliberate and careful.Not Loch.His patrol route wouldn't take him there for another eight minutes.
They were surrounding the house.Watching.Evaluating.Not making a move yet but letting me know they'd found us.
My phone buzzed again—another text from the same unknown number:
You might think hiding behind that criminal protects you but consider the legal ramifications for Dante.Your father has already spoken with Judge Harrington about custody arrangements.Don't make this harder than it needs to be.
The threat was clear.My father's connections in the legal system had always been his most powerful weapon.If he'd already been talking to judges about Dante...
