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I turn to face her, adjusting my raincoat. “Never mind. Don’t contact me again. If you do, I will go straight to the commissioner and have you arrested.” I stomp off into the rain, past the hooded man who doesn’t flinch.

My paranoia has gotten out of control.

Sarah Crawley doesn’t care about me. She only ever cared about him…whoever he is. She never believed Toby Myers was the real Constellation Killer. If there even was a Constellation Killer to begin with. She never believed he was the mastermind of all those deaths. She thought he was too stupid to be the one behind it. If I spend another minute with her, she will be that much closer to exposing me for what I did to Natalie.

Chapter 10

Standing outside my apartment, I swallow hard, step inside, and shut myself in, bolting the lock behind me. I flick on the light and immediately check for anything amiss. My paintings and paintbrushes are exactly how I left them, my white ribbon untouched. I walk up to the window and glance down. The dark car out front belongs to the cops who are watching me. This time, I close the blinds. I’m not in the mood for the Archer right now. I need a moment to think.

My muscles are weary as I make a cup of tea and stare up at the abstract painting of the Archer. The manifestation of my pain and grief. The manifestation of isolation. A mirror image of my inner self. At least that’s what I used to believe—I’m not sure anymore. I fall back onto the couch still chilled to the bone. No amount of hot tea will warm me up. After undressing, I go into my bathroom, start the shower, letting steam fill the room, then remove my clothes.

My eyes drift to the bruises on my breast, stomach, and legs, my long dark hair softly falling over them. He hurt me…He abducted me. Punished me. Yet I still long for him. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him.

The depth of love that could inflict such pain must be real. If it is real, then why has my mind suppressed it? He exploited me for something, and he’s not done with me. That realization sends icy chills through my veins while at the same time my skin is melting away.

Stepping into the hot shower, I let the water wash over me, and suddenly, images of the forest flooded my mind. Gradually, memories of all those cold lake baths return, the icy water seeping deep into my bones.

He used to clean me after he hurt me. He fed me, bathed me, and caressed me. He healed me…

I step out and turn off the shower just as my phone rings from where I tossed it on the bed earlier. I’m naked and dripping under my towel as I walk toward my bed, and my heart stops as I stare at a white ribbon lying on my pillow that wasn’t there moments before. I twist around scanning the room, my heart blasting out of my chest.

How the fuck is he doing this?

The phone rings again. A sharp breath escapes me as my body tenses, and I answer it. “What is this?”

A soft, sexy voice responds. “A reminder, wildling. Since you’ve blocked everything out. This ribbon always helps you find your way home.”

A shiver pushes up my spine, and I whip my head around my apartment. “Where are you? I know you’re here.”

“I’m close, baby.”

“How the fuck are you doing this?” I demand. “How did you get in here?”

His voice turns husky. “Maybe I’m not real. Maybe you’re hallucinating me, Layla.”

“Fuck.” I whip the phone on the ground a few feet away from me so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. My lungs lose all its breath, and my hand whips to my mouth. I want to rip my hair out…I’m doubting my own thoughts, my sanity. I don’t trust my mind anymore. A part of me was left behind during my captivity, and I worry it’s gone forever.

I double-check for the third time since I came home. Windows shuttered. Door locked from the inside⁠—

He’s not real…He’s not real…He’s not real.

I force myself to move, crawling over to the phone, gripping it in my hand. With ragged breath lifting it to my ear.

“Are you done having your little psychotic break?” he asks.

I keep a healthy distance from the window and slink back down onto the couch, my breasts hanging out of the towel, water still dripping down my body. I scratch my thigh to confirm I’m not dreaming. “Can you see me right now?” I ask.

“Yeah, I can see you.”

He obviously has access and a camera hidden here. My stomach twists into a million knots. “I want to see you. Show yourself to me, enough hiding.”

He keeps his voice steady, even though I’m a hot mess. “You’re not ready to see me. When you are, you’ll know.”

“What are you trying to accomplish by stalking me?” I snap.

“As I’ve told you before, I’m trying to help you remember, Layla.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force a memory that doesn’t want to come. Not even a sliver…All I have are these feelings.