Brighton’s POV
I couldn’t breathe well, as I rushed past the dark alley for the last time.
For the past days, every corner I turned felt like eyes were cutting into my spine. Every step I took, every shadow I passed—someone was watching. Someone knew.
And the worst part?
I didn’t know who.
I stormed into Mr. Queen’s private study without knocking. His guards jumped, but he lifted a single hand and they froze.
He didn’t even lift his head from the glass of whiskey in front of him.
“What is it now, Brighton?” he muttered, exhausted or irritated—I couldn’t tell.
“I’m being followed,” I hissed, shutting the door behind me. “Everywhere. Every damn place I go. Someone knows what we did. Someone is tracking me.”
He finally looked at me. Cold. Calculating.
“Are you sure it’s not your gu
