He walks down the sidewalk like he owns the ground beneath his feet—focused, controlled, not looking at anyone directly. And yet?—
Everyone notices. The conversations dip. The glances sharpen, then disappear just as quickly. It’s not fear. Not exactly. But it’s close.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “I have to ask.”
Brooke follows my gaze, then looks back at me with a carefully neutral expression.
“What’s going on with him?”
“Archer?” she says lightly.
“Yes, Archer.”
She hesitates just long enough to confirm I’m not imagining things.
“He’s… important,” she says.
“That’s vague.”
“It’s accurate.”
I cross my arms. “Important how?”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “He’s been here a long time. People trust him.”
“That doesn’t explain why everyone looks like they’re trying not to breathe when he walks by.”
Her smile tightens slightly.
“Small town dynamics,” she says. “You’ll pick up on it.”
“That feels like a non-answer.”
“It kind of is.”
I stare at her for a second, then sigh.
“Fine. Keep your secrets.”
She nudges my arm lightly. “You’ll figure things out in your own time.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
She laughs, but there’s something else under it—something cautious. We finish up not long after that, and she heads out with a quick promise to check in again before the reopening.
By the time evening settles in, I’m alone again.
The bookstore is quieter now, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the newly organized shelves. I’m just about to call it a night when I hear it. A sound. Outside. Low.
Animal.
I freeze.
It comes again—closer this time. A scraping noise. A faint growl that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
“That’s… not a dog,” I whisper.
I move slowly toward the front door, peering through the glass. Nothing. The street is empty. But the sound?—