Page 3 of The Monster’s Weakness

“What?”

“Report it,” he repeated.

She nodded too quickly.

He didn’t move. His eyes dragged over her face once. Slow. Clinical.

“Your eyebrow.”

Gemma blinked.

“There’s a scar,” he said.

Her fingers found the tiny white line she’d had since she was nineteen. She’d lost her balance during an MS attack and hit her head on the coffee table.

“It’s barely visible,” she whispered. She’d almost forgotten about it, to be honest.

“Not if you’re looking.”

When she turned to look at him again, he was gone.

Chapter Two

Caleb was not a nice guy.

He was not sentimental, either.

That was why he made a living off of killing people. Some people were fucking monsters and they were only good six feet under. He was happy to do it and took a great deal of pride in his work.

No one missed men like Harry Pembroke. Not even his wife, who hadn’t shed a tear on the news reports. The pharmaceutical company was being purchased by a larger corporation, and she was getting a big payday out of it.

He never checked what was happening to the people he killed or their families. But a lot of employees working at Pembroke Pharmaceuticals had lost their jobs in the takeover bid. That included Gemma Miller.

Caleb understood that fear, that desperation she’d experienced about her meds. He shouldn’t care, and the truth was, he didn’t. He intended to leave everything alone. He didn’t need the information on Gemma, absolutely not. However, even as he attempted to convince himself of what he didn’t need, that wasn’t helping him put her out of his mind the past couple of weeks.

Gemma Miller, twenty-six years old, diagnosed with multiple sclerosis nine years ago. She’d been fending for herself since she was eighteen. Her family were fucking animals and hadn’t had any contact with her in years. It was all in her file.

Unemployed now, and by his estimation of her last prescription, she was going to run out of her meds within days. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

He called up his online whizz, Raffi, to make the necessary arrangements to deliver the prescription. He stole a uniform from the local pharmacy, along with a name tag, and made his way toward Gemma’s address, his face obscured by a large medical mask and tinted glasses.

There was no way she was ever going to know it was him. He’d purposefully deepened his voice that day. He just had to see her face to face again. When he got to her apartment building, there wasn’t a whole lot of security. While he was standing outside, someone came out and literally held the door open for him.

People nowadays didn’t know the risks they took with their lives, as well as the lives of the people in the building. Gemma lived on the main floor, which he didn’t like. It made her an easy target.

He knocked on the door. The walls were thin, and he heard her grunt.

“I’m coming,” Gemma said.

The door opened, and the woman he saw looked so incredibly tired.

“Can I help you?” Gemma asked.

Caleb tried not to laugh when he thought about how fierce she looked in that office with a cheap plastic gun. For a second, it had looked real, but that was because she’d almost fucked up his plans.

“I’ve got a prescription for Gemma Miller,” he said. He wore a baseball cap with the local pharmacy’s logo.

Gemma frowned. “Are you sure?”