For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the man who’d spoken—the tall one—tilted his head toward the door with a quiet, unarguable “this way.” It wasn’t rude, exactly. It felt like being led out of a room filling with smoke.
Mya took her hand off the boutique’s handle and let herself be drawn along. Behind her, she could feel Damon’s mother stiffen, Caroline’s curiosity prick like needles, and Sloane’s stare follow her to the door. Damon didn’t call after her. Of course he didn’t. The bell chimed once as the door swung shut behind the four men and the woman they’d come for.
They didn’t say anything at first. Just walked.
The mall’s cool air smelled like pretzels and perfume, sugar and cleaning solution. The men cut through the crowd in a straight line, moving the way people move who are use
