Instincts

T H O M A S

For the past few days, I've been closely monitoring Hera. She must be out of her mind if she thinks I would ever leave her alone. If I'm not keeping an eye on her, there's always someone else I trust who is.

But you know who I don't trust? Dale. He's Hera's so-called friend who runs the bookstore across the street. Even though his background check came up clean, something doesn't sit right with me. I don't appreciate how he spoke to me.

It's like he knows too much, and someone with that kind of knowledge has surely done some questionable things in their life.

It's around nine in the evening, and here I am, parked across the street in my car, gazing up at the balcony above Hera's bakery. She's standing outside, leaning against the railing, her hands clasped together. From this distance, I can see her shoulders trembling as tears stream down her face.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, my knuckles turning white. It pains me to see her so down, so broken. There are count