“And he left a note in my mailbox.”
Marissa’s brow creases. “What kind of note?”
“Personal.Obsessive. And not signed with a name. Just the letter B.”
Brielle snatches my empty mimosa glass and flags the server with a sharp wave. “We’re gonna need more alcohol.”
She slams the glass back down and turns to me, wide eyes. “What did the note say?”
I unlock my phone, tap the first photo, and slide it across the table. A white square marked with a black serpent coiled at the center.
“A napkin?” Marissa asks, squinting.
Eden leans closer. “That’s definitely Leviathan.”
I swipe to the next image. The back. Bold, slanted handwriting sprawls across it—undeniably male, unapologetically sure.
Not a note. A promise.
Careful what you wish for, Laurette.
You have my attention.
—B
Eden’s eyes widen, her Bloody Mary forgotten in her hand. “Oh, damn, Laurette.”
Marissa gasps, one hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God. That’s insane.”
Brielle lets out a low whistle, eyes locked on the screen. “Shit, that’s hot. I mean, it’s also a little terrifying. But, like… hot, terrifying.”
“It’s nothot, Brielle,” Eden snaps. “It’s stalking.”
“I didn’t say she should date him,” Brielle says. “I’m just saying, the man’s got flair.”
Marissa reaches for my hand, her fingers tight around mine. “What are you feeling?”
There’s a part of me that is afraid, but another part isn’t. Not even close.
I look down at the napkin again and the slanted scrawl on the back.
“I don’t know what I feel.”
And it’s the truth. But it’s also a lie.
Eden shakes her head, eyes flashing. “Honey, you should’ve called us the second it happened.”
If I had, they’d have shown up with charcuterie and Chardonnay, camped out in my living room like a wine-fueled SWAT team, already drafting a neighborhood watch manifesto and assigning shifts.
“Don’t worry. I filed a report with Tobias.”
Eden exhales and nods. “Good. Keep him looped in on everything, no matter how small. If you so much as get a weird text, I want you to notify him about it.”
Brielle takes a long sip of her mimosa, gaze dancing over the rim of her glass. “You know… he could be watching you right now.”
Marissa stiffens. “Brielle, that’s not funny.”
“Stop romanticizing this. It’s terrifying,” Eden snaps.
