He nods and lets me depart without a word. I manage to find the strength in me to wave brisk goodbyes to the rest of the team before shoving open the door of the stadium and muttering a quick “night” to the security.
The drive seems to take a lifetime, and my desperation has made me careless because I park right in front of her apartment.
I frown at the driveway. Neither of their cars are there.
All the lights are off. The girls never do that. They leave the one in the bathroom on every night, and I can always make out the faint glow through the living room curtains. But not tonight.
Unease skitters down my spine as I inspect the side of the apartment, making my way to the back door. The curtains in Mina’s room are partially open. There’s no way she wouldn’t be home at this time, even if she’s been forced to go out to dinner with her parents.
My jaw twitches as I try to recall the last time I checked her messages. I’ve scoured her phone more times than I can count, and the only men she speaks to are me and that dead fucker, Thomas.
I swear, if it turns out she’s ignoring me to be with him, he’ll be roadkill before the sun rises.
My covertly copied key slides into the lock, and a crippling chill settles beneath my skin as I let myself into her place like I’ve done so many times before. Not once has there been this eerie silence.
Usually, beneath the hum of the refrigerator, there’s the barest inkling of life: soft snores, the rustle of blankets, insects chirping beyond the walls. Now, nothing.
I take another risk tonight and turn on the lights.
White floods the space to bring the carnage to life. My blood goes cold as my eyes roam over the broken furniture and shattered glass. The ice melts with each new piece of destruction I notice until I’m burning with a fury that I can hardly contain when I make it into her bedroom.
The rage rides me hard before it suddenly gives way to fear.
Mina hasn’t spoken to me since I left the café.
I rush back into the living room to search for blood. I can barely fucking breathe as I kick over furniture and push aside glass for anything red. I repeat the process in her bedroom.
An object goes scattering across the ground when it meets my shoe, and I stop. It’s the camera I hid in one of the ornaments on her shelf. The lens has been smashed, and part of the microchip is sticking out of the plastic casing.
I dig into my pocket for my phone and pull up the app. An error message pops up on the screen about a signal issue for one of the cameras. I ignore it to play the final captured footage, and the fury comes back tenfold.
It’s time-stamped at not long after Sabrina and Mina finished their date. She would’ve had to speed across the city to be here at the same time the intruder was. That knowledge takes the edge off enough for me to breathe and focus on what I’m seeing.
A figure comes into view, barreling into her room like he’s on a rampage. With a ski mask on, dressed head to toe in black, there’s nothing discernible about him beyond his height. He’s tall. Maybe as tall as me. Built.
The anger builds until it’s suffocating. What if Mina was here when he broke in—in broad fucking daylight?!
He pauses at the threshold of her room and casts his attention around the small space. Then his sight lands on the mood board on her bedside table with pictures of me. His perusal stalls for only a moment before he marches to the bookshelf and sends its contents tumbling, and the footage goes blank.
The moment I catch my reflection in the dark screen, an idea takes hold. A realization. It forms and solidifies until it becomes unshakable.
This game has gone on for too long. There’s no universe where she doesn’t spend every spare moment by my side.
She can have her last night of freedom tonight, but it ends the second she comes out of hiding.
After that? Whoever did this will fucking pay.
Sometimes I wonder how many times she sat parked in her car a few houses down from me before I noticed she was there. It wasn’t until she broke into my house and left her scent all over my sheets that I realized what she had been doing.
I’ll be honest. The text the private investigator sent me an hour ago has me in an even better mood. He says there’s been a string of robberies around the city with the same MO: snatch their bag then help himself through the front door.
If it’s him, the threat to Mina starts and stops there.
It’s hard not to be smug as I lock the door behind me and leisurely walk to my car wearing a hoodie I know damn well she recently bought too. I never cared to be a humble person, and it’s not about to start now. I puff my chest a little and stand straighter, knowing she’s watching me.
I always know when her sights are on me, even if I haven’t seen any tangible evidence of her presence.
It physically pains me not to be able to turn her way to see what she’s doing. Truthfully, I wouldn’t put it past her to have bought another pair of binoculars to use from within her dad’s car.
