Chapter 18
ISLA
I’m jolted awake by a noise, blinking my eyes open and searching for the source.
I drew the electric shades over the windows because I can’t sleep with sunlight streaming in, and being up half the night with Alessio left me exhausted. With nothing better to do, I decided that I’d go back to bed with Cid.
The room is draped in shadows, so it takes me a second to realize that I’m not alone. There’s a strange man standing at the edge of Alessio’s bed. The instant I lock eyes with the intruder, I scream.
He doesn’t even flinch.
I scramble backward against the headboard, the duvet yanked up to my chin like it’s a shield that can save me from the man staring at me with pale blue, glittering eyes.
“You can scream,” he says patiently when I take a frantic breath, “but no one will hear you.”
The Russian accent sends terror through me. He’s not the same man from the coffee shop. This much, I’m certain of. But I have no idea who he is or why he’s here, only that it’s not going to be good for me.
“Where are the guards?” I demand.
“Sleeping,” he says. “They looked like they could use a nap.”
Oh my God. Did this monster murder them? I can barely breathe. My heart is pounding hard, my mouth dry.
“D-did you kill them?”
He stalks toward me. I realize Cid is gone, and for some reason, his absence becomes another major source of panic. Did he hurt Luna’s beloved baby too?
“Where’s Cid?”
“Cid?” The man frowns. “Who is that?”
“The cat. My friend’s cat. What have you done with him?”
“The little beast ran away. A bit like your lover, no?”
He’s talking about Alessio. Which means he knows Alessio left for work earlier this morning. He knows I’m alone. And he’s apparently done something to the guards. Which means I have no one to save me from whatever it is he’s come to do.
“What do you want?” I ask, trying not to let my fear show.
“You.” He grins at me, and it startles me to realize that he’s actually a very handsome man.
But monsters come in all shapes and sizes.
And this one is particularly huge. He towers over me, at least six-foot-five, and with a chest that’s so broad I wonder how he fits through a doorway. He oozes menace and sheer strength. He doesn’t even have a weapon. At least not one I can see.
“You can’t have me,” I tell him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’ll have to kill me first.”
That probably wasn’t the wisest thing to say.
He laughs like he finds this funny. And maybe he does. Maybe he’s enjoying my terror, the sick fuck.
“Nobody said anything about killing,” he says calmly. “I want to talk with you, Isla Davenport. That is all.”
He knows who I am.
He knows my name. First and last.
It makes me wonder what else he knows.
