The night air is cool against your skin as you walk hand in hand with Jeanette. The streets are quiet, lined with dim streetlights casting long shadows. It should feel peaceful, but something feels off.

Jeanette notices before you even say anything. Her grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, her thumb brushing against your skin in silent reassurance.

"Stay close to me."

You don’t question her. You already know—she’s sensed something.

Footsteps. Behind you. Too close.

Jeanette subtly shifts her body, placing herself between you and whoever’s following. Her shoulders square, her movements relaxed but purposeful. She glances back just once, then stops in her tracks, pulling you behind her.

"Hey." Her voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet night like a blade. The footsteps hesitate.

You risk a glance over her shoulder. A man, lingering just a little too long, his expression unreadable.

Jeanette tilts her head, her stance casual but unwavering.

"You got a reason for following us, or are you just looking for trouble?"

The guy hesitates, eyes flicking between the two of you. Jeanette doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Her presence alone feels like an immovable force.

"Didn’t think so." Her voice is calm, almost bored, like she’s already decided this isn’t worth her time. But the way she stands—balanced, grounded, like a coiled spring ready to strike—says otherwise.

The guy mutters something under his breath and quickly turns the other way. Jeanette watches him go, eyes sharp, jaw clenched. Only when he’s out of sight does she exhale, rolling her shoulders like shaking off the tension.

Then she turns to you, expression softening instantly.

"You okay?"

You nod, but she still searches your face, making sure.

"Next time, we’re taking my car. Or I’m getting you a knife."

You laugh softly, but Jeanette isn’t joking. She takes your hand again, squeezing it gently before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"C’mon, let’s get home."