The man watching Serena Hale from across the street had learned patience the hard way.
He sat in a nondescript sedan parked beneath a jacaranda tree, engine off, windows cracked just enough to keep the glass from fogging. A coffee cup cooled in the holder beside him, forgotten. His attention never left the building entrance.
She emerged at exactly 6:42 p.m.
Right on schedule.
She locked the door behind her with care, checked it once, then twice before adjusting the strap of her bag and heading down the steps. Her movements were unhurried but deliberate, like someone who knew that rushing invited mistakes.
The agent noted everything.
Height. Gait. Awareness level. The way her eyes scanned her surroundings without obvious fear. Serena Hale didn't look like someone who expected trouble but she wasn't naïve either.
That made her dangerous in a different way.
"She's on the move," he murmured into the mic tucked discreetly beneath his collar.
"Copy," came the reply in his earpiece. "Maintain distance."
He waited a full ten seconds before opening the car door. Long enough to avoid pattern recognition. Long enough to disappear into the rhythm of the street.
Serena walked three blocks before stopping at a small grocery store wedged between a laundromat and a closed pharmacy. The sign flickered overhead. Inside, fluorescent lights hummed softly as she pushed a basket through narrow aisles.
She moved slowly, calculating.
Bread. Milk. Canned soup. Generic brands.
The agent watched from the reflection in the freezer doors, pretending to examine frozen vegetables. She checked prices twice before choosing, frowning slightly as she returned one item to the shelf.
Money mattered.
That detail had already been confirmed, but seeing it play out made it real.
"She's cutting costs," the agent reported quietly. "Hospital bills must be worse than projected."
A pause.
"Any signs of awareness?" the voice asked.
"No," he replied. "But she's careful."
That was an understatement.
Serena paid in cash, counting bills with practiced precision before tucking the change into her bag. When she stepped back onto the street, dusk had settled fully, shadows stretching long across the pavement.
She turned left instead of right.
The agent adjusted his path, keeping two storefronts between them. He'd been trained for this, how to blend, how to disappear, how to observe without being remembered.
Still, something about her unsettled him.
She wasn't flashy. Wasn't reckless. She didn't scream target.
She screamed collateral.
Serena stopped abruptly at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The agent froze a half-step behind her, gaze flicking to the reflection in a darkened window.
Another man stood across the street.
Too still.
Too focused.
The agent's hand tightened slightly.
"Control," he said softly. "We've got another watcher."
Silence stretched for a breath too long.
"Confirm," came Dante's voice, calm, controlled, unmistakable.
The agent swallowed. "Male. Mid-thirties. Casual clothing. Not one of ours."
"Distance?" Dante asked.
"Across the street. Pretending to check his phone. He's watching her, not me."
Dante didn't respond immediately.
Serena crossed the street as the light changed, unaware of the invisible tension snapping into place around her. The second man followed, too closely, too confidently.
"Don't engage," Dante said at last. "I want to see how this plays out."
The agent's jaw tightened. "Understood."
Serena turned down a quieter side street, lined with old apartment buildings and flickering streetlights. Her pace quickened slightly, not enough to be obvious but enough to signal instinct.
She felt something.
The second man closed the distance.
Too fast.
The agent's pulse spiked. "Boss, he's moving."
"I see it," Dante replied.
The man reached out….and Serena spun around suddenly, eyes sharp, heart pounding.
"What do you want?" she demanded.
The man smiled, hands raised placatingly. "Easy. You dropped something."
He held out nothing.
Serena's gaze flicked to his empty hand, then past him, scanning the street. Her breathing stayed steady, but her grip tightened on her bag.
"I didn't," she said quietly.
The agent watched from the shadows, muscles coiled, ready.
The man shrugged. "Must've been mistaken."
He stepped back.
But he didn't leave.
He lingered, watching her walk away, eyes narrowing slightly.
"That was deliberate," the agent said. "He wanted to see her reaction."
"Yes," Dante agreed. "And now he has."
The agent waited until Serena reached her building before retreating. He watched her disappear inside, then turned his attention fully to the other man.
The tail began.
It didn't last long.
The second man slipped into a bar two streets over. The agent followed, taking a seat near the back, nursing a drink he wouldn't finish.
The man made a call.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It's her. She's clean. No protection that I can see."
A pause.
"Yes. Nervous, but not stupid."
The agent's blood ran cold.
He left the bar before the call ended.
"Boss," he said urgently once outside. "They've confirmed her identity."
Dante's response was immediate. "Pull back."
"What?" The agent frowned. "I can follow, "
"No," Dante said. "Not yet."
A breath.
"Bring me everything you saw. Every movement. Every hesitation."
The agent complied.
Night deepened.
Across the city, Serena sat on the edge of her bed, groceries unpacked but forgotten. The encounter replayed in her mind on a loop, the stranger's smile, the empty hand, the way her instincts had screamed before her brain caught up.
She hugged her knees to her chest, breathing slowly.
You're imagining things, she told herself.
But the unease didn't fade.
At the hospital, machines hummed softly around Mrs. Evelyn Carter's bed. Serena sat beside her guardian, brushing thinning hair back gently, forcing a smile she didn't feel.
"It's going to be okay," Serena whispered, though she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.
Mrs. Carter slept on, unaware of the weight pressing down on the young woman holding her hand.
Miles away, Dante Moretti stood in his operations room, screens glowing softly around him.
He watched the footage again.
The hesitation.
The awareness.
The way Serena had sensed danger before it revealed itself.
"She's not weak," Marco said quietly.
"No," Dante replied. "She's just unprotected."
A silence followed.
"Someone is circling her," Marco continued. "And they're impatient."
Dante's gaze hardened. "Which means time is no longer a luxury."
He straightened, decision settling into place with chilling clarity.
"They don't get to touch her," Dante said.
Marco glanced at him. "That's a promise or a warning?"
Dante didn't look away from the screen.
"It's a fact."
The city pulsed outside, alive, indifferent, dangerous.
And somewhere within it, Serena Hale slept lightly, unaware that unseen eyes now tracked every shadow near her door.
Unaware that the moment she had been marked, she had ceased to be invisible.
And that the man who had noticed her did not share.