Chapter 3 - The Enforcer at the Door
The afternoon sun filtered lazily through the dusty windowpanes of the small mountain grocery store in Asheville, casting long, golden beams across aisles stocked with canned goods and staple items.
Claire stood near the back, her fingers gently grazing a box of organic oatmeal as she calculated her tight weekly budget.
Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she wore an oversized thrift-store flannel shirt designed to conceal her expanding twenty-four-week pregnancy.
She reached for a jar of preserves when the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up, an instinctual, primal warning bell echoing through her nervous system.
Outside on the cracked asphalt curb, a sleek, tinted black SUV had rolled silently to a stop, its engine idling with a low, predatory hum.
The passenger side door clicked open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sharp charcoal suit stepped out onto the pavement—Gavin Roarke.
Claire’s breath caught in her throat; her knees wobbled violently, threatening to buckle beneath her.
She backed away blindly into the cereal aisle, her mind racing with panicked calculations of escape routes, but she knew it was already too late.
The heavy glass door of the grocery store chimed cheerfully as it swung open, and the heavy, measured footsteps of an apex predator echoed across the linoleum floor.
Gavin didn’t draw a weapon; he didn't need to.
He simply stopped three feet away from her, his hard eyes softening with profound relief as he looked down at her swollen belly.
“Mrs. Voss,” Gavin murmured quietly, his voice steady and respectful. “Boss wants to take you home.”
Claire clutched her stomach, tears stinging her eyes as she shook her head fiercely.
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“I’m not going back to his war,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperate defiance.
But as Gavin raised his wrist communicator to signal the perimeter, two more black vehicles slid silently into place outside, sealing every exit.
