I check her phone, search history, and computer. She’s the perfect girl—keeping to herself and only speaking to one person religiously: Allison Cheney.
That’s a sticky situation, to say the least. A top lawyer in Columbus, who studied at Yale and would delight in putting a psychopath like me behind bars.
Jack slides his foot up the inside of Greer’s leg and hisses, slamming my laptop closed and glaring at him through the window of my truck.
As if he can feel my disdain, he places his foot back on the ground. Greer adjusts in her chair, tucking her legs closer to her body.
“That’s my perfect girl.”
I’m well past obsession now, sinking deeper into the depths of fucking insanity when it comes to her, and I can’t find the damn surface.
I only kill forhernow.
She left me for dead, and now I’m her fucking composer, slaughtering those who don’t fit in our symphony, those who don’t belong in our song.
Because while I don’t know what my dim future has in store for me, I know one thing: she is mine.
Now
Greer shivers in my hold.
Fuck, her body has always been so inviting.
“W-who are you?” she whispers as I let my hand drop from her mouth to her throat. My other hand holds a gun to a small exposed section of her neck, the cold metal begging her to make one wrong move.
“Your protector.” My answer sounds deranged even to my ears, and it does nothing for her fear.
If anything, the scent of her alarm becomes the overwhelming fragrance in the room.
“The cops are outside. They’ll find you,” she stammers.
I drop my hand and fist her nightgown over her stomach. “The cops don’t fucking matter. What matters is how they got here. Why are they here, Greer?”
She cries out as I say her name, and it’s music to my ears, like she plucked the strings of her vocal cords with vibrations only meant for me.
“I—I didn’t know where else to turn. I wasn’t safe.”
“And are you safe now?”
Her tears wash down her cheeks, her sniffles making me angry, though I can’t work out why.
They all cry when faced with the end. She can’t know I’m not here to kill her. I’m only here to remind her how she’s to behave.
Our game will be over if I’m found out.
Our game can’t end.
It’s the only thing keeping me human these days.
“Answer me, poison.”
She swallows as I tease my hand over her throat, recalling how it felt the last time I toyed with her in her sleep, felt her pretty cunt around my fingers, and fondled her throat as her pulse slow-danced toward its finish.
I don’t know if she’s aware of what we do at night.
I also don’t know how she’ll react if she finds out.
“I’m not safe. You’re always lurking. You’re always here.”
