Page 24 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir
“Maybe I just like being right.”
“You ever not?”
“Once,” she says, brushing past me, close enough that her shoulder brushes mine. “Didn’t like it.”
We move like a unit now.
She syncs to my cues without being told. I lean on her observations without meaning to.
It’s not about authority anymore. Not handler and contact. Not protector and protected.
We’re partners.
And that scares the hell out of me.
Because I know what partnerships cost.
And I know I’d pay it.
CHAPTER 8
LEAH
The hum of old wiring crawls up the walls like it’s trying to eavesdrop. The lights are off, but a pale leak of amber spills in through the cracked doorway from the next hall, just enough to etch out Kalev’s silhouette.
He’s across from me, lounging with that impossible stillness like he was poured into the chair instead of sitting down in it.
The coffee’s lukewarm. I keep sipping it anyway. Gives my hands something to do besides shake.
“Do you ever stop staring?” I mutter, without looking up.
“If I stopped, would you miss it?”
I snort. “Only if I were unconscious.”
A beat. He doesn’t smile, not exactly, but something in his posture shifts. Like amusement folded itself behind his ribs.
Silence again. A thick, velvety quiet that stretches but doesn’t break.
I tap the rim of the mug. Once. Twice.
“I used to think I was broken,” I say, and immediately want to take it back.
But I don’t.
He doesn’t jump in. Doesn’t rush to fill the space. Just waits.
“I was nine,” I add. “Enclave breach. They came in loud. Mom tried to keep me behind her. I didn’t stay.”
Kalev’s head tilts—slightly. Not questioning. Just listening.
“I ran. Hid in the biohazard locker. Dumb place, but nobody ever looked there. Too many rules, even for killers.”
“You chose well,” he says, voice low.
I ignore that.
“I didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Just listened while they tore the place apart. Heard my father yell. Then nothing. Boots. Heavy. Stopped right outside.”
