Page 26 of Lovely Venom

“I have to say this is freaking me out.” Kenzie glares at the envelope. “I know you thought it was just a patron, but this is a lot. Do you think we should tell Viktor?”

“No.” I shake my head quickly. The last thing I want to do is bring this to the manager’s attention. He’ll just find a way to blame me. “Can you open it?”

She bites her lip and nods, shoulders stiffening as she unfolds the paper and stares at it.

“What does it say?” I prompt her, my stomach churning as the color drains from her face.

She holds it up with a shaky hand so I can read it for myself.

Does my loyalty mean nothing to you?

These past three months have been perfect with just the two of us, but you had to go to that party and ruin everything all over again.

Why would you want to see Marco? I thought we finally understood each other.

Then you let that fucking Italian touch you?

Don’t make me get ugly, K. You won’t like it when I do.

I study those hastily scrawled lines as my blood runs cold. Whoever this is, he’s never admitted to watching me outside the club before, though I’ve suspected it. He knows far too much about me, and that singular letter at the end reads like nothing less than a threat.

It triggers a familiar fear that my past is catching up with me. That he’s found me, and this is his way of tormenting me before he makes me disappear forever. But the longer I stare at it, the more I convince myself that it must be a coincidence.

Logically, it doesn’t make sense that it could be him. Ares keeps tabs on the entire Seattle area, and I trust that he would tell me if I was in danger. But I still can’t seem to shake this feeling. I’ve received a lot of weird gifts and notes in my years as a performer, but these are different. And I’m not the only one who thinks so.

“I don’t like this, Chantel,” Kenzie reiterates. “This isn’t just fan behavior. He’s escalating.”

“I’ll handle it,” I assure her. “But for now, please just keep this between us.”

She hesitates a moment before she nods. “Okay, but promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will.”

We say our goodbyes, and I sit quietly with my thoughts until soft footsteps draw my attention to the door. When I catch the expression on Mariella’s face as she approaches, I know she never left.

“I’m guessing you overheard that?” I force some levity into my tone, but it does nothing to convince her.

She sits in the chair across from me, concern etched into her features.

“I had a feeling you weren’t as casual about this stalker as you said you were. You told us about it in case something happens, didn’t you?”

I don’t acknowledge it, but I don’t need to. Mariella can see she’s right.

“Something’s been off with you for a while now,” she observes. “Does this have anything to do with your past?”

I wring my hands together in my lap, not even sure what to say. I’m so tired of worrying all the time, trying to predict everything that can go wrong, and actively trying to prevent it.

In therapy, they told me to walk through the worst-case scenario, as if I’d eventually realize it wasn’t as bad as my mind made out. Except, in my situation, the worst-case scenario ends with me dying, and I don’t know how walking through that is supposed to help.

The irony is that I have people like Mariella who want to help me, and sometimes, it’s so tempting to just confess everything. But deep down, I know it could only end one of two ways. It would either start a war, or I’d lose them forever.

“I know you have a hard time opening up,” Mariella says. “And I’m not trying to pressure you. But I want you to know I’m here, and I’ll never tell a soul anything you share with me. I just need to know you’re safe.”

“I am.” I give her a watery smile. “Thanks to you, I have a whole arsenal of weapons at my disposal.”

Mariella laughs, shrugging as if she can’t help herself. She’s always been concerned about my safety as a performer, and every year, she adds more self-defense tools to my collection. In my bag alone, I have an emergency alarm, pepper spray, a stun gun, and a switchblade. I also have rings and other discreet jewelry that can be used in a pinch, and that’s nothing compared to what I have at home.

“I could arrange for a guard to drive you to and from the club,” she offers.