CHAPTER 88

CHAPTER 88
Tyler’s POV

I had spent the last three days memorizing the clockwork of the place, down to the minute the front doors unlocked and the precise moment Claire disappeared into the storage room for midmorning inventory. 
Dominic was scheduled for ten on the dot. That meant I needed to be visible, but not suspicious. Present, but not so obvious that anyone would question why I was standing in the lobby at just the right time.
I arranged my schedule carefully. Volunteered to cover a task that ended five minutes before ten, then “just happened” to be free during the exact window Dominic would arrive. When Claire thanked me for helping out, I gave her a polite nod and a grin that said nothing about what I was really doing.
By 9:55, I was leaning casually against the reception counter with a clipboard in hand, pretending to read through a stack of patient forms. The role was simple: harmless staffer, maybe a bit too diligent. My eyes didn’t look like they were watching the front doors, but every second of my attention was locked on them.
At exactly 10:00, the doors slid open, and Dominic entered.
Claire moved quickly to greet him with a professional smile, leading him past the waiting area without a single form signed. Special treatment. Expected treatment.
I made a show of flipping a page on my clipboard, my head angled just enough to catch everything. His gait was efficient, his expression locked in mild irritation, like being anywhere outside his controlled environment was an inconvenience. His eyes never rested on anyone for more than a second. Not even Claire. Interesting.
I noted the subtle interactions. Claire didn’t chatter with him like she did with other patients. She spoke quickly, gave him exactly what he needed, then stepped back. Deference. Respect. Or maybe fear. Dominic said nothing in response. Just a curt nod before disappearing behind the frosted glass door leading to the private consultation rooms.
I stayed where I was, pretending to puzzle over a form, while the clock in my head ticked forward. His consultation lasted precisely twenty-two minutes. At 10:22, the door opened, and Dominic reappeared, adjusting his cuff links with a quick, practiced motion. 
No wasted movements. No wasted time. He didn’t even glance at the reception desk as he strode out of the clinic and back into the city.
I waited a beat, then set the clipboard down and slipped out a side door. No one noticed.
Dominic moved quickly, but not like he was running. I matched his pace half a block behind, keeping my reflection aligned with other pedestrians. The trick to shadowing someone is blending in with the scenery. Too far back, you lose sight. Too close, you become a shadow they notice.
He crossed streets with precision, never rushing even when the light turned yellow. I memorized each intersection, each timing cycle of the traffic signals. Red for twenty-seven seconds on Fourth. Green for thirty-two on Maple. Small details, but valuable later.
Three blocks down, he turned into a narrow side street and entered a small café tucked between a boutique and a flower shop. The kind of place that pretended to be casual but charged double for espresso. Through the wide front window, I saw him take his usual seat—back corner, facing the door. Predictable. Men like Dominic always want to see who’s coming.
I didn’t go inside. Instead, I crossed to a bookstore opposite the café and pretended to browse the window display. My eyes stayed on him through the glass reflection. He ordered a coffee, checked his phone, and didn’t speak to anyone. He finished his drink in exactly twelve minutes before standing and leaving without so much as a glance at the barista.
From there, I followed him farther, weaving through pedestrians and traffic, committing every turn to memory. His route home wasn’t direct, but it wasn’t evasive either. He simply preferred quiet streets to crowded ones.
 I noted each building, each alleyway, each set of cameras mounted on poles or rooftops. Surveillance works both ways, it watches the public, but it also reveals where blind spots live.
By the time I returned to the clinic, the day had shifted into its evening rhythm. Claire was busy with paperwork, and the rest of the staff was winding down. I played my role, smiling and assisting, the perfect image of an attentive coworker. Inside, I was counting minutes until my real meeting.
When the last lights were dimmed and the clinic emptied, I slipped out the back door and headed toward the far end of the city. The parking garage was nearly abandoned, its concrete levels echoing with the occasional drip of water from leaky pipes.
A dark sedan waited in the corner. Its headlights remained off. The driver’s window rolled down as I approached, revealing nothing but shadow.
“On time,” a low voice said.
“Always.” I reached into my jacket and retrieved a slim flash drive, holding it between two fingers before placing it on the dashboard. “Everything from the clinic’s files. Dominic’s schedule included.”
A gloved hand picked it up and slipped it out of sight without a word.
In return, the same hand produced a small, unmarked package wrapped in plain brown paper. No labels. No tape. Nothing to suggest what was inside.
“You’ll need this soon,” the voice said.
I didn’t ask questions. Questions revealed uncertainty, and uncertainty was a crack in the armor. I simply nodded, pocketed the package, and turned to leave.
As I walked away, the sedan’s engine started softly, then faded into the night.
Back at the clinic, I stopped at a row of lockers near the staff lounge. No one was around at this hour. I unlocked mine with a practiced motion and placed the package on the top shelf, burying it beneath a folded set of scrubs. The metal door closed with a quiet click, sealing it away from prying eyes.
I sat on the bench for a moment, breathing in the sterile air. Dominic’s patterns were mine now. His habits, his routes, his secrets they belonged to me. The package was just another piece of the plan, waiting for the right moment.
Tomorrow, Dominic would follow his usual routine, unaware that someone had already mapped every step he took. Unaware that the ground beneath him was shifting, inch by inch, toward collapse.
I smiled in the dim light, then stood and walked out, leaving the locker closed and the night silent behind me.