Following her through the narrow, dimly lit streets, I keep a safe distance, blending into the shadows.

The woman that Vincent is stupid enough to fucking like, walks down the street with no care in the world like she hasn't just pulled my brother and my best friend right into hers.

I don't trust her, but I can't deny the fascination she stirs in me.

Vincent and Enzo are both fawning over her, like fools. Vincent's already half in love, his judgment clouded by his feelings. Enzo, on the other hand, sees her as a new plaything, a distraction from the mundane. Or at least I hope the fucking idiot knows what's good for him and doesn't fall for her.

She's a reckless liability, and both Vincent and Enzo will hate what needs to be done, but they'll thank me in the end.

I trail her to the cemetery, watching as she slips between the graves, her head held high. She doesn't belong here, in this town.

She'll only bring trouble, and we can't afford any more of that shit in our lives. With the current murders and the Jackals breathing down our necks with the allegations, having some girl distracting Vin and Enzo will only cause more festering shit.

I leave a healthy distance between us, watching as the woman veers to the side and disappears towards the town cemetery.

My brow furrows, hands clenching by my side as I follow.

What does a woman, who is new to town, need with a town cemetery that's been here longer than half the towns people?

She stops by a grave, head bent down to stare at the one by her feet. I edge closer, my eyes fixed on her every move.

She kneels by the headstone, her lips moving silently as she talks to the dead. Her face is a canvas of emotions: sadness, despair, and something else I can't quite place. I'm captivated, despite myself, mapping her features, studying her as if she's the most intriguing puzzle I've ever encountered.

Vincent's infatuation and Enzo's fascination with her will only lead to disaster. Better to cut our losses now, eliminate the threat before they grow too attached. She won't survive this town, not if she's connected to the Quarter. And going on a date with Enzo and Vincent? That was a connection. I've already received one threat this morning, the next one won't be so polite. The Jackals don't play fair.

The most humane option is to cut her off now, before Johnny and his entourage of muscle get their hands on her. That would be a fate worse than death.

I step closer, my hand reaching for the knife tucked into my belt, the handle warm and smooth under my calloused palm.

The woman is none the wiser as I creep forward, still talking to that damn headstone like they're long lost friends.

Her face is serene, hair slipping over her cheeks before she lifts a hand to tuck the dark pieces behind her ear, her cheeks flushed with a pink tinge from the cool wind.

My heart does some stupid flip and I scowl, tightening my grip on the handle of the knife and take another step forward.

A stick snaps under my weight, the sound piercing through the air and I curse inwardly as Dani's head whips up at the noise and I twist out of view and behind a statue.

My heart thumps viciously in my chest, the hard edge of the cement digging into my spine as I listen for movement. For a split second, her gaze had met mine, and I swore, I could see right into her soul.

So much sadness. So much anger.

When I look back, she's gone, not a trace that she was even there. I move to where she was kneeling, staring at the headstone she was so focused on.

"Jonathan Manning, loving son and father."

Who was he to her? And who is she, that this grave holds such significance?

I stand there, staring at the words carved into the stone, my mind racing.

I turn my back on the grave, taking my time to walk back to the house, my thoughts filled with dark hair and eyes that hold way too much sadness for a small town baker with a smile like Dani's.

Why the hell did I care? She is just some warm cunt for my brother to get lost in for a month before we're back to regularly scheduled business. So why was she occupying his thoughts, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame?

She was a problem, and problems needed to be dealt with swiftly and efficiently, preferably with no one the wiser.

My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms. She needs to die. That was the answer to all their issues. Her being alive was a complication we couldn't afford. But I had lost my opportunity, all because of a stupid fucking twig. My lips pull back in a silent snarl, frustration boiling over.

I retrace my steps, making my way back to the house I share with Griffin, Vincent, and Enzo. The place was a fortress, a symbol of power and control over the town we fought for with bloody fists. I push through the door, instantly greeted by the sight of Griffin walking around the foyer half naked, the stench of sweat clinging to him. I turn my nose up, scoffing under my breath.

"Ezra, what's got your panties in a twist?" Griffin asks, raising a dark blonde brow at me, his hair closely shaven to his head. His dark blue eyes are piercing a hole right through mine, searching through the files in my mind like he can find the source of my angst.

"Go take a fucking shower."

"Such an attitude," my twin comes waltzing out of the kitchen, "you need to get laid big bro."

I scowl, brushing past him without a word.

I need to focus, to channel this anger into something productive.

I wound through the hallway until I reached the room at the back, locking myself in the room and turning to my setup, a bank of monitors and computers where I did my best work. I was the quarters resident hacker, their eyes and ears in the digital world.

The first name I typed out in the search engine was one I didn't mean to, fingers flying over the keyboard without prompt. 

Dani was a puzzle; one I was determined to solve even if I had to cut her into little pieces and put her back together again to see the big picture. My fingers fly over the keyboard, each keystroke a vent for this pent-up rage inside me, one I didn't want to stare too long at for fear of what I might see. 

What if it wasn't rage, what if it was something else entirely - 

I cut off that thought. 

Why did she have to be so intriguing? Why did she make me feel this way, out of control and off-balance all from one glance, one stupid small glance into her soul and I was hooked. 

Dani held rage in her heart, hurt in her eyes and joy in her smile yet she was just like me. 

Broken. 

I knew it, and I was determined to find out who made her that way. 

The monitors flickered as I broke through another layer of security, my focus razor-sharp until suddenly I was staring at her face, lit with concentration in the cafe's small kitchen, chewing her lips in thought while she pondered over what had to be a recipe book, finger tapping a silent melody into the silver bench. 

Eventually, I leaned back in the chair, eyes burning from the screen's glare but still watching her, waiting her out.