Page 84 of In the Shadows
Mitch glanced at him. "And you? Planning to stick around?"
"That's the plan."
"Good." Mitch clapped him on the shoulder. "This town's going to need people it can trust. Seems like those are in short supply at the moment."
He walked away to check on his security team, and Ronan turned his attention to the stage.
The mayor was wrapping up a nervous introduction, her voice too loud through the speakers, her eyes darting to the crowd as if expecting someone to stand up and announce what had happened that morning. No one did. The news would break soon—it always did—but for now, the town was still operating on yesterday's assumptions.
Lila climbed the stage steps.
Ronan’s attention split between Lila at the podium and the crowd.
Second row, left side—a man in a baseball cap who’d been shifting since the ceremony started. Middle section—a woman with a phone angled too high. Back row?—
Movement.
A man threaded through the standing crowd behind the seated section. Mid-thirties. Heavy shoulders. The same polo shirt that didn’t hide the bulk at his hip.
Stephen Jackson. The gray sedan. Beach Road. The gravel on his cheek.
Jackson was moving toward the front, closing the distance between the crowd and the stage. His eyes were fixed on Lila.
Ronan left his position. No hesitation. Just the geometry of interception—Jackson’s trajectory, Lila’s position, the six steps between them.
Jackson reached the edge of the seated section. His hand went out—toward the stage.
Ronan caught the wrist. The same wrist he’d pinned to the gravel four days ago. He stepped between Jackson and the stage, his body a wall.
“Walk away,” Ronan said. Low enough that only Jackson could hear. “Right now. Or I put you on the ground in front of twelve hundred people.”
Jackson’s eyes were furious. But the confidence from Beach Road was gone.
“Your boss is in federal custody. Your friends are in federal custody. The only person who still has something to lose is you.” Ronan released his wrist. “Walk. Away.”
Three seconds. The crowd was oblivious—all eyes were on the podium, on Lila, who was preparing to speak.
Jackson turned. Walked back through the crowd. Disappeared into the park.
Ronan returned to his position. Heart hammering. Hands steady.
Mitch was watching him from across the stage, one eyebrow raised.
Ronan shook his head once. Later.
She'd changed since that morning—a blue sundress now, hair pulled back, a thin gold necklace catching the sunlight. She looked poised. Steady. Like someone who had already survived the worst and come out the other side.
She stepped to the microphone, but didn't open the folder in her hands.
"My father loved this town."
Her voice carried across the park, clear and unwavering. Ronan felt his chest tighten.
"Daniel Bennett spent thirty years surveying these streets. Mapping these boundaries. Documenting every piece of land that makes up Blossom Springs." She paused. "He believed this place was worth protecting. He died believing that."
The crowd was silent. A baby fussed somewhere near the front, and someone shushed it.
"In the coming days, you're going to learn things about this town that will be hard to hear. You're going to discover that people you trusted betrayed that trust. You're going to feel angry, and confused, and maybe a little afraid."
