Page 13 of Juliet's Echo

I needed the morning drop-off crowd cleared so my people could move properly—close proximity, clean visuals, noting every car that belonged and every one that didn’t. I had eyes on this place before Juliet ever stepped foot inside it.

Protecting her was always the priority.

And I had a team of soldiers willing to make sure her school days were safe by any means necessary. They had orders to make shit shake if anything looked out of the ordinary—no questions asked. And with the type of money I shelled out daily for this level of protection, I knew those orders would be carried out without hesitation.

I parked and turned in my seat to face her. My father pulled his car alongside mine, engine still running.

“Look at me,” I said.

Her eyes met mine immediately—like always. Saying everything, even when she said nothing at all.

I signed, You ready?

Her hands came up slower this time.

“What if it’s too loud… and it leaves?” she signed.

It.

Her hearing.

The doctors believed Juliet developed selective mutism as a defense mechanism. So when her hearing left, her mind played tricks on her—convincing her she couldn’t speak either.

“If it leaves, it leaves,” I said calmly. “Your teacher knows the sign for break, and Gina’s been cleared to be in the classroom with you for half the day.”

Juliet blinked, her long lashes catching the tears before they could fall.

I leaned in slightly and signed, Aye… are you the predator or the prey?

“Predator,” she signed back.

I shook my head.

Nah.

That wasn’t good enough.

“Say that shit like you mean it,” I signed, firm but steady. I got you. Forever.

She took a deep breath, her little chest rising and falling.

Then her hands snapped up—and her voice followed.

“I am the predator!”

“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about, baby girl,” I said, pride hitting my chest. “Own the game!”

Reaching into the back, I unhooked Juliet’s seatbelt and stepped out of the car to grab her. My parents, moving like they were on the same timing as me, did the same.

Someone reached Juliet’s side of the car before I could.

And I immediately went for my gun.

No, Havenbrook wasn’t that type of place—but with my line of clients and Juliet’s history, I stayed on guard. Always. Even after five years of silence, that nigga Sloane still lived rent-free in my head. Yeah, him and his family had damn near vanished off the face of the earth, but something in me still felt like he was close.

He took half my heart when he killed Simone.

He wasn’t getting anywhere near the other half.