Widow's Cause

The car hadn't moved.

Neither had the shadow inside.

Adrian stayed by the window, his stance tense but calculated. I could feel the weight of his silence, the sharp focus in his gaze. He was assessing, waiting.

I wasn't sure what for.

"Do you recognize the car?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "No plates. No markings. Could be anyone."

"Could be them."

"Could be," he agreed.

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. It wasn't just the presence of that car—it was the knowledge that whoever sat inside had been watching long enough to know we were here. Long enough to make their presence known.

Deliberately.

A warning had already been sent. Now, this was something else.

I stepped back from the window, my fingers curling into fists. "We can't just sit here and wait for them to do something."

Adrian's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away from the window. "That's exactly what we do."

My frustration flared. "What? Why? We should—"

"They want you scared, Everly." He finally turned to look at me. "They want you panicked. They want you to run."

I swallowed hard.

I wasn't panicked. Not exactly. But I did feel a pull—an instinctive urge to move, to do something before it was too late.

Adrian studied me, then exhaled. "We wait fifteen minutes."

"And then?"

"If they're still there, we take the back exit."

I let out a slow breath, nodding.

Fifteen minutes.

I could endure fifteen minutes.

The silence stretched, filling the room with something thick and suffocating.

I could hear the tick of the clock on the wall, each second stretching endlessly. I tried to keep my breathing steady, but my thoughts refused to settle.

Who was in that car? Were they alone? Had they been watching me long before tonight?

And more than anything…

Had they watched my husbands, too?

I shivered.

Adrian remained still, his eyes never leaving the window. His hand rested lightly on his gun, his entire body coiled like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

I envied that control.

Because every nerve in my body was screaming at me to move.

A car door creaked open outside.

I sucked in a breath, my entire body stiffening.

Adrian raised a hand—wait.

I held still, my ears straining.

But there were no footsteps. No movement.

The door hadn't closed again.

Whoever it was, they were still outside, standing in the dark.

Waiting.

I gritted my teeth, my nails pressing into my palms.

I couldn't see them, but I could feel them.

Watching.

And I hated it.

Time moved painfully slow, but when Adrian finally glanced at his watch, he nodded. "Time's up."

"They're still there?" I whispered.

He gave a single nod. "We move."

Adrian led the way through the dimly lit apartment, his steps soundless, his movements precise. I followed, my breath caught somewhere in my throat.

The back exit led into an alley—a narrow, damp space between buildings, swallowed in shadows.

Adrian pushed the door open cautiously, scanning the area before stepping out.

I followed, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

We didn't speak.

We didn't stop.

Every step felt too loud, every breath too sharp.

And then—

A noise.

Not behind us.

Not from the street.

From ahead.

Adrian reacted instantly, his arm shooting out, pushing me behind him as he raised his gun.

I froze, straining to hear.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

Coming closer.

Then, a voice. Low. Calm.

"You shouldn't have come here, Everly."

The breath left my lungs.

Not because of the words.

But because I knew that voice.

I stepped forward before I could stop myself. "Who—?"

And then he stepped into the dim glow of a streetlamp.

My stomach dropped.

I knew him.

Not well. But well enough.

His name was Marcus Cain.

A man my second husband once called a friend.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering.

Marcus Cain looked the same. Dark hair, neatly combed back. Sharp, intelligent eyes that always seemed to see too much.

But there was something different now.

Something colder.

I glanced at Adrian, but his expression remained unreadable. His grip on his gun hadn't relaxed.

Marcus tilted his head slightly, his gaze settling on me. "You don't remember me, do you?"

I clenched my fists. "I remember."

A flicker of something—amusement, maybe—crossed his face. "Then you know why I'm here."

"I don't," I said. "But I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

Marcus chuckled. "Still bold. That's good."

I stayed silent, my muscles tense.

Adrian didn't lower his weapon. "You have ten seconds to explain why you're standing in this alley."

Marcus exhaled slowly. "Relax, Adrian. If I wanted her dead, she wouldn't be standing here."

The casual way he said it made my skin crawl.

"Then what do you want?" I demanded.

Marcus studied me for a long moment. "To warn you."

I swallowed. "Warn me?"

His expression darkened. "You're getting too close."

I felt a sharp jolt in my chest.

Too close to what?

The truth?

Or something worse?

Adrian took a step forward. "Who sent you?"

Marcus didn't flinch. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me," I said.

He sighed, then reached into his pocket. Adrian's gun was up instantly, his body tense.

But Marcus only pulled out a slip of paper.

He held it out to me. "Take it."

I hesitated before slowly reaching for it.

A single address was written on it. No name. No details.

Just a location.

I lifted my gaze to him. "What's at this address?"

Marcus met my eyes. "A man who can tell you why your husbands died."

My breath caught.

Before I could speak, Marcus took a step back. "Be careful, Everly. You might not like what you find."

Then, without another word, he disappeared into the darkness.

Leaving me standing there.

Holding a clue I wasn't sure I was ready for.