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Silence. Then—“I didn’t leave you, Layla. I’m still here.”
I snatch my hand back, my mind clearing and my morals kicking in. Whoever he is, he’s not a good person. Terror suddenly consumes me. Those thick fingers gripping around my neck, sucking the life out of me. I clutch my neck as if reliving every second in that bunker. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. Just leave me alone.”
“It’s highly unlikely I will ever leave you alone. You really don’t remember, do you?”
“No,” I whimper. “I really don’t.”
He pauses, the red dot creeping up my thigh and belly until it rests on my navel. “Do you remember her?”
“I’ll never forget her.” I recall the memory of Natalie flashing before my eyes.
“Do you know why they call me the Archer?” he asks, and I stare out the window, half-hoping he’ll materialize through it.
“No.”
“I’m stubborn, just like you, baby. I’m driven by the truth. They call me the Archer because I never miss my mark, and you are my tameless prey. I’m coming for you, wildling.”
Chapter 9
After hopping off the SkyTrain, I end up walking three blocks in the rain with my raincoat hood pulled over my head. It’s late afternoon. Another dreary day unfolds as mist hovers in the sky. My phone buzzes with a message from Gabe. I haven’t heard from him since the incident, and I’m unsure how to respond. As the rain trickles down, I hit ignore and whip my head up, sensing the Archer’s heavy presence all around me.
He’s out there, watching me—hunting me. The Archer chose me. And there is something deeply disturbing and satisfying about that.
A few minutes later, a text rolls in:
Gabe: We need to talk. If you don’t call me back, I’ll show up at your place later.
I pinch my nose, delete the message, and keep walking. He texts me again.
Gabe: Call me, Layla. I’m only trying to help you. I’m worried about you.
I clench my jaw and click back a quick response, keeping my phone under my hood as people whiz by me, unaffected by the light rain. He’s not worried about me; he’s worried about losing me as a client.
Layla: I’ll call you tonight.
Gabe: You owe me an explanation.
I curl my lips in response.
Layla: I don’t owe you anything.
The phone rings. I internally groan but answer it anyway. Might as well get this over with. He won’t leave me alone, not when he has so much to lose.
“What do you want?” I snipe at him.
“Maybe you should be nicer to me, considering I’m only trying to help you. You have so much potential, Layla. You and I could be great together.”
The raindrops start to intensify. I’m drenched now, no point in avoiding it. Cars and people blur past me, yet the entire world seems to stand still and all I can think of is the Archer’s warning and that red dot swirling on Gabe’s forehead. “I can’t do this with you, Gabe. Don’t contact me again. Find another client.” I hang up before he can respond and my stomach lurches into my throat. Beth won’t like this. She has it in her mind that I’ll be some famous artist one day. But at least I recognize it for what it is. The Archer was never shooting at me.
“Fuck,” I scream, making people stop and stare as I storm down the busy street.
A few minutes later, I arrive at my destination. A small coffee shop near the water. Sarah Crawley is waiting for me, just as I expected. This morning, I received a foreboding text from an unknown number with this coffee shop’s address.
She’s sitting with her back to me by the window, staring out into the harbor. Her hair is pulled in a simple ponytail. I take a deep breath, walk in, and sit across from her. I need to talk to her. I want to tell her everything, but I can’t. I open my mouth, but words are heavy on my tongue.
She lifts her gaze, her eyes are tight and glassy. She’s not an unattractive woman; she’s fit as hell and naturally pretty. But she’s tough as nails and doesn’t take shit from anyone.
When I was growing up, my mom taught me how to be pretty, Regina taught me to be smart, but Sarah was the one who taught me to be tough. “How ya doing, kid?” At one point Sarah and Beth used to be friends.
