Aamon glanced down at the text message on his phone. He didn’t bother replying to his fiancée, Cici’s, message. He had more important matters to attend to.

Sitting in his Aston Martin, Aamon drummed the steering wheel impatiently, his eyes fixed on the café, waiting…

In exactly one minute and twenty seconds, he would reap the rewards for his patience. After all—he had been waiting in the parking lot for a good four hours already. A minute was nothing, especially when it came to—

The door to the café swung open and Aamon released the breath he had been holding. There she was, his little dove. Did she miss him? Was she thinking of him as he had thought of her?

He knew her routine—he watched her through the hidden cameras he’d installed in her home, after all. She would go home, relax, workout, study, sip a particular brand of tea. He was delighted that they had the same brand of tea.

He watched as his little dove paused, staring around her as though scenting danger. He smirked as he watched her walk briskly towards the bus stop. Had she felt him watching her?

“Fly, fly, my little dove,” Aamon whispered.