“I like it,” I lie.
What I really like is the reflection I saw in it when I looked back.
Her. Obeying me. Coming for me.
Now it’s the only thing I can think about.
Chapter Eight
Ineed to get my head back on the mission, to remember why I started this, but that masked asshole with a tongue to die for is fucking up my plans. Well… kind of. He did save me, which counts for something, but still, he’s a complication.
Sterling just lost his head of security, and that could mean two very different things: either he’s suddenly easier to get to, or he’ll disappear into the shadows until the coast is clear. I’m hoping for the first, but knowing my luck, it’s the second.
It’s been over a day now, and there’s still nothing, no Sterling at his usual spots, not even at his work, and I can’t force him out from whatever hideaway he’s in, so I’m stuck in my apartment, trying to think, but all my brain can dig out is the masked asshole!
I flick the TV on. I don’t care what’s on, I just need to hear another voice. Something that isn’t in my head, something that might drown out the thoughts about the killings… abouthim.
I’m not even paying attention when the screen shifts to a reporter, standing in front of a collapsed building.
My building.
My hideout. The one place I could change, prepare, vanish into the dark without anyone knowing I was ever there.
They burned it. Burned it to the fucking ground.
Those three bastards lit up the only safe place I had and walked away like it meant nothing. Like I’m not going to come for them.
They’re wrong.
I’m going to kill every single one of them,afterI find them. And finding them? That’s probably going to be easier than getting close to Sterling right now. At least it gives me something to do, something to wrap my hands around instead of sitting here, unraveling.
I pull on the black dress. One of three I own, but this one fits me like a glove, I look at my shoes and go for the black combat boots. They are old but strong enough to kick a massive, masked man in the balls if I need to. My hair falls in loose waves, and my makeup is simple: black eyeliner and red lipstick.
The last thing I grab is my new knife. It fits better in my hand than the last one did. Heavier. Stronger. Deadlier.
I hope
Tonight, I’ll put it to use—my masked stalker told me my old one sucked. Still got the job done. He wasn’t wrong, though.
One last look in the mirror, and my breath hitches—the glass doesn’t just reflect me, it drags me back. Back to his hands locking me in place, to the heat of his breath through that mask, to the relentless stroke of his tongue. The kind of hunger you don’t come back from.
It’s all there in the shimmer of my own eyes, pupils blown wide, lips parted. My reflection wears the same look I had when he made me come, the same slack, wrecked mouth. I can still feel the tremor in my thighs, the ache in my core, the way my fingers clawed for something, anything, to hold on to.
I don’t even know his name. Haven’t seen his face, and yet somehow, that makes it worse. Better. Both. Oh my fucking God!
He’s a ghost in black leather and blood, a phantom who didn’t flinch when he saw what I’d done.
He watched me cut two men’s balls off, stitch them into my shame socket ritual, and instead of running away… he devoured me. He pulled me apart until there was nothing left, just heat and heartbeat and the wrecked sound of my own voice breaking. The worst part?
I’m standing here now, staring at myself in the mirror, wishing he’d do it again.
We’re both insane. Fucked up. Dangerous. The kind of broken that shouldn’t even exist in the same room, let alone share air. I can lie to myself all I want, but it won’t change the truth.
I want to see him again.
Not just because I want revenge from burning the building down but because there’s something in him that makes my entire body tense, that makes my breath catch. So let’s see if I can draw him out tonight.
The club is only half full when I walk in, early enough that I can see the crowd clearly. Perfect. I might not know his face, but that height, that frame, the way a hoodie drapes over his wide shoulders and tapers to a narrow waist… not many men in this city look like that.
