“That’s how I experience emotions through taste. The layers, the subtle shifts.” She pauses. “And that’s how we identify our targets because their actions form patterns, too.”
“Predatory patterns,” I whisper. My hands instinctively arrange the pens on the nearby desk into perfect parallel lines. “Like Walsh. Like those politicians.”
“Exactly. We see what others miss. Society calls us different, but maybe we process the world more thoroughly.”
Our eyes meet, sharp with recognition. “That’s why you and Adrian connected so deeply. You both see beyond the surface.”
“Yes.” Maya reaches for my hand, and this time I don’t pull away. “We’re not monsters, Amelia. We’re just different. And we use our differences to protect others who can’t see the dangers we can.”
Maya walks me to the boutique’s door, and I pause at the threshold, fidgeting with my scarf as I try to process everything I’ve learned.
“I need time to think about this,” I say. “I’m going home to get some perspective.”
“I understand.” Her voice catches slightly. “Thank you for listening.”
I give her a tight nod and step out into the cold Chicagoafternoon. The wind cuts through my thin sweatshirt, but I barely notice. My mind is too busy trying to reconcile the horror of what they’re doing with the twisted logic behind it.
I think about the Valentine’s cards on display at every shop two weeks ago—all those platitudes about giving someone your heart. None of them captures what is happening between Gabe and me. He hasn’t just taken my heart; he’s claimed every inch of me, body and soul, even the darkest corners I’ve never shown anyone. If we’d met on Valentine’s Day instead of after, would I have recognized him for what he is? Or would the backdrop of hearts and roses have disguised the predator until it is too late to choose him consciously?
And underneath it all, a small, dark voice whispers:What would I do if I had their power? Would I be any different?
22
GABE
Five days. One hundred and twenty hours of silence. My carefully constructed world crumbles at the edges.
I pull into the alley behind Amelia’s building, parking beside the service entrance. My phone confirms she’s inside—the tracker I placed in her bag before she fled my apartment is blinking steadily on the screen. A rational voice warns I should leave her alone, but rationality abandoned me somewhere around day three of her silence.
The service door lock is laughably simple. One twist of my tools and I’m inside, taking the freight elevator to her floor.
Amelia’s apartment door is just as easy to crack. I enter her apartment and move toward the gallery door, where she stands before a massive canvas, her back to me. Blood red and midnight black swirl across the surface in violent patterns. She doesn’t turn when I enter, though her shoulders stiffen.
“You promised you’d give me space.” Her voice floats back to me, hollow and distant.
“I lied.” The words escape through clenched teeth. “I tried, Amelia. Five fucking days.”
Her paint-stained fingers tighten around her brush. “Get out.”
Something snaps inside me. Five days of unanswered texts. Five days of fantasizing about her body beneath mine while slashing open boxes in my storeroom. Five days of sleepless rage.
I cross the room in three strides, gripping her wrist and spinning her to face me. Paint splatters across the polished concrete floor.
A discarded Valentine’s card is crumpled near her trash can—some generic message about finding the perfect match, probably from a well-meaning friend—it better not be from a man, or he’ll find himself in my collection. How fitting that we have found each other after that manufactured holiday has passed. What Amelia and I share isn’t chocolate hearts and red roses—it’s blood oaths and carved initials. Our connection has escaped the Valentine’s clichés and formed something far more primal. Something real.
“Look at me.”
“Let go.” Her eyes burn into mine, unafraid despite the white-knuckled grip I have on her wrist.
“No.” I back her against the wall, pinning her there with my body. “No more running. No more silence.”
“You’re hurting me.”
I release her immediately, stumbling backward. My control, my precious control, evaporates like fog in sunlight. My hands shake as I drag them through my hair.
“I can’t give you space,” I growl, pacing like a caged animal. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t fucking breathe without you.”
“This is exactly why I needed time away from you.”Amelia rubs her wrist, red marks blooming where my fingers were. “Look at yourself, Gabe. This isn’t normal.”
