Harley’s P.O.V.
The sun had barely dipped behind the treetops, casting the soft golden haze across the back lot of the Moon Bar. The sweat still clung to my skin as I loaded the last crate into the van. My arms ached, but it felt good to work hard, moving, doing something instead of thinking too much about Carlos.
Derek stood beside me, loosening the collar of his button-down, grinning like we were on a vacation instead of busting our asses. He was briefing me about his plan to settle scores with Ella and Xander when it hit me, that feeling so heavy and primal. Like, a pair of eyes boring into my skin from somewhere unseen.
I froze, hand halfway to the next crate. The back of my neck prickled, coasting a shiver down my spine. I looked over my shoulder and found nothing. Even the road before the bar was empty, returning my thoughts to the rusted dumpsters and our van.
But still, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched by something wild and caged, pacing just out of the sigh
