I caress the side of her face and she looks up at me with love in her eyes.
How the fuck did I get this damn lucky?
“I love you, Madelyn.” I whisper, leaning down to kiss her.
She wraps her legs around my waist and I let go of one of them to run my hand up her thigh. Her skin feels like the finest silk that was made especially for me.
We break the kiss and she whispers back, “I love you too, Miles.”
We’ve been trainingMaddie for a week now between classes and her shifts at the coffee shop. She hasn’t received any other texts from her stalker since the last one that sent her into a spiral. We also haven’t seen anything unusual on the cameras around the house that has raised any alarms, either.
Morgan has been an immense help with teaching Maddie as many self defense moves as she can while the guys and I spend several hours at the shooting range. I plan to bring Maddie and Morgan with us the next time we go, so they can also get some practice in.
Maddie’s confidence and self esteem since she started training has skyrocketed and I fucking love watching her glow. The fear she’s been carrying on her shoulders for months is slowly dissipating, and I plan to get rid of it completely.
Neither of us have been to our own places since we started staying at the safe house, and we haven’t seen anyone else outside of who all stays at here. She has been bugging me to go back to her own place to at least get more clothes and see Kaitlin.
She may have not received any messages from her stalker, but she’s received a fuck ton from Kaitlin who has been constantly trying to figure out where she’s been staying, which I find fucking weird.
I don’t see how Maddie doesn’t find it odd as hell that Kaitlin is bugging so damn much, but I guess it’s just a girl thing. I wouldn’t know shit about it, so I just leave it alone.
I mentioned to Maddie she could go get some more of her things today as long as Morgan accompanies her, and she agreed. I’ve noticed she and Morgan have been sort of becoming friends and I think that’s great for both of them. They could really use a solid friendship.
I decided since Maddie will be gone all day with Morgan, I would go to my apartment and see if the cameras have caught anything since I’ve been gone. Hudson and Nate have been tagging along with me anywhere I go, and I’m grateful for it. They’ve been helping me keep my mind off the pills I’ve been slowly trying to wean off of, and they don’t even know it. They’re like the two brothers I’ve always wanted but never had.
We pull up to the garage of my apartment complex and scope it out, checking to see if anything seems unusual before continuing into the elevator.
Once we get to the main floor of my apartment, I immediately notice the light from outside creeping into the hallway from the cracked front door.
Motherfucker.
Hudson and Nate finally notice what I see and curse under their breaths.
“He might still be here. Let us check it out before you go in there.” Hudson whispers quietly, but I’m not about to wait outside like some little bitch.
If he’s still in there, then it’s going to be me he sees coming at him first.
I shoot my arm out to stop him and whisper back, “Nah, fuck that. I’m going. You guys follow.”
Slowly, I ease my apartment door open, holding my breath as I wait for something, or someone, to come lunging out at me. My eyes dart across every shadow and corner, every single place someone could be hiding.
Now I finally understand how the people in all those Halloween movies feel, creeping through an empty house while they wait for the killer to step out of the darkness.
“What the fuck…” I faintly hear Nate state, but I can barely hear him over the anger that's coursing through me.
My blood pumps loudly in my ears and my heart hammers in my chest, filling me entirely with adrenaline as I take in the sight before me.
Papers litter the floor of my apartment, each one covered in the same word scrawled in thick red Sharpie.
MINE.
Over and over again.
The little furniture I own has been overturned and shredded, deep knife marks carved through the fabric as if someone stabbed it again and again just for the satisfaction of destroying it. Red paint is everywhere—splattered across the countertops,smeared over the appliances, streaked along the walls, dripping down the furniture. Every message says the same thing.
MINE.
My stomach plummets as my gaze lands on my bed.
