Updated Feb 18, 2026 • ~6 min read
ARCHER
I’m making a mistake. I know I’m making a mistake. But I can’t help it.
When Tobias told me I was being relocated to Silvercrest, Oregon, I should have asked for a different assignment. Should have told him to send someone else. Should have stayed far away from Willa Crane. But I didn’t. Because I’m selfish. And weak. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her for three years.
I saved her life. Then I disappeared into witness protection. Had to. The trafficking ring I exposed was connected to the Domenico crime family. They put a price on my head. Half a million dollars for the FBI agent who took down their operation. So the Bureau faked my death. Gave me a new name. New identity. New life. Archer Saint died. Aaron Stone was born.
I’ve lived in four different cities in three years. Denver. Austin. Seattle. Now here. Always moving. Always watching. Always alone. And always thinking about her. The girl with auburn hair and hazel eyes. The girl I saved. The girl I had to leave.
I told myself I’d forget her. That she’d move on. Build a life. Be happy. That I’d just be a weird memory. A strange footnote. But I never forgot her.
And when Tobias told me the Domenico son, Malcolm, was making moves again, asking questions about Willa Crane, I volunteered for the protection detail before he could finish his sentence.
“This is a bad idea,” Tobias said.
“She needs protection.”
“I can send anyone.”
“Send me.”
“Archer—”
“She’s in danger because of me. Because I saved her. Because Malcolm thinks she can identify me. This is my responsibility.”
“Fine. But stay distant. Don’t engage. Just watch.”
I’m already breaking that rule.
She knocked on my door yesterday. Brought brownies. Asked if we’d met before. I lied. Told her I have “one of those faces.” Watched her eyes narrow with suspicion. She knows. I don’t know how. It’s been three years. She saw me for ninety seconds in bad lighting during a traumatic event. But somehow, she knows.
And now I’m watching her through my window like a creep. She’s coming home from work. Red coat. Bag full of papers. Tired smile. She’s beautiful. More beautiful than I remembered.
She looks up. Catches me watching. I don’t move fast enough. She waves. I wave back. Fuck.
My phone buzzes. Tobias.
“Status report.”
“Subject is secure. No unusual activity.”
“Archer.”
“What?”
“Don’t get attached.”
“I’m not.”
“You volunteered for this assignment.”
“Because I’m the best person for the job.”
“Because you have feelings for the subject.”
“I don’t.”
“Lying to me is one thing. Lying to yourself is dangerous.”
He hangs up.
He’s right. I do have feelings for her. Have had them since the night I saved her. I told myself it was just adrenaline. The rescue. The danger. The way she looked at me when I told her to run. Grateful. Terrified. Trusting. But it wasn’t just adrenaline.
I ran background checks on her after. Told myself it was professional. Making sure she was safe. But really, I just wanted to know more about her. Willa Crane. 27. High school English teacher. Orphaned young. Younger sister in college. Best friend named Lennox. Likes coffee with too much cream. Reads romance novels. Volunteers at animal shelter on weekends. Never married. Few relationships. Lives alone.
I know too much. More than I should. And now I’m living next door. Watching her. Protecting her. Lying to her.
There’s a knock on my door. I check the peephole. It’s her. Again.
I open the door.
“Willa. Hi.”
“Hi. Sorry to bother you. But I just realized I never asked if you needed anything. I’ve lived here two years. I know the area. If you need recommendations for grocery stores or coffee shops or—”
“I’m good. But thank you.”
She nods. Doesn’t leave.
“Was there something else?”
“Are you single?”
The question catches me off guard.
“What?”
“Single. Are you? Because my friend Lennox is amazing and she’s always complaining about the dating apps and I thought if you’re new in town and don’t know anyone—”
“I’m not interested.”
It comes out harsher than I mean it to. She blinks.
“Oh. Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m just not looking to date right now.”
“Got it. My bad.”
She turns to go.
I should let her leave. Should maintain distance. Should follow Tobias’s rules.
“Willa.”
She turns back.
“I appreciate it. The offer. But I’m… dealing with some things. Complicated things.”
“I understand.”
She doesn’t. But she’s polite enough to pretend.
“If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
Because I can’t date her friend. I can’t date anyone. I’m supposed to be dead. And if I did date anyone, it would be the woman standing in front of me. The woman I can’t have.
She leaves. I close the door. Lean against it. This is torture.
My phone buzzes again. Marcus. My former partner. The one who was in the warehouse when everything went wrong. The one who’s also in witness protection. The one who’s supposed to be dead.
“How’s Oregon?”
“Rainy.”
“How’s the girl?”
“Not relevant.”
“So you’re living next door to her.”
“For protection.”
“Sure.”
“Marcus.”
“Archer. Be careful. You’re too close to this.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? Because last time you got emotionally invested in someone, you almost died.”
He’s talking about our old partner. Nadia. Who I loved. Who betrayed us to the Domenicos. Who shot Marcus and nearly killed me.
“This is different.”
“How?”
“Willa didn’t betray me. She doesn’t even know me.”
“She will. And when she finds out you’ve been lying to her—”
“She won’t find out.”
“She already suspects something. You said so yourself.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Archer—”
“I have to go.”
I hang up.
He’s right. They’re all right. This is a bad idea. But I can’t leave. Not while she’s in danger. Not while Malcolm is asking questions. Not while I can still protect her.
Even if she never knows. Even if she hates me later. Even if this destroys me. I’ll keep her safe. That’s all that matters.
END OF CHAPTER 3
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