Chapter 35 Shadow
The house was quiet with no one home, the heavy weight of silence pressing down on the walls as I slipped through the front door, careful to make sure it didn’t click shut behind me. I’d been here before, watching from the outside, learning their routines, but this time was different.
This time, I was inside, and the thrill of it sent a shiver down my spine.
I wove my way through the house, careful to avoid areas I could be seen. No one should be here, but I didn’t want to risk it.
Finally, I made it to the foyer, the stairs leading to all their bedrooms. It wasn’t hard to figure out which room was hers.
Everything about Evie felt marked with an energy that was impossible to ignore.
I made my way up the stairs, careful to check each step for any loud creaks.
The hallway stretched ahead of me, a path leading straight to her bedroom.
The door was slightly ajar, a faint sliver of light spilling through from the small neon lamp she’d left on.
I pushed it open, stepping into her space.
Her scent hit me immediately—soft and sweet, laced with something sharper underneath. Vanilla, with a bite. It seemed so fitting to her. I breathed it in deeply, letting it settle in my lungs.
The room was neat, almost too neat for someone like her, but I could feel the chaos bubbling underneath. The bed was made, clothes folded on the chair in the corner, but I could imagine the whirlwind of her mind, the secrets she was hiding under the surface.
I started with the desk. If she had found something about Veritas, it would be there.
My fingers grazed over the surface, brushing past the papers she’d left out, the pens scattered across the wood.
Most of it was innocent—work schedules, notes scribbled about the shop.
I picked up a notebook, flipping through the pages, but all I found were more meaningless notes. Nothing useful. Nothing dangerous.
But then I saw it half hidden beneath a stack of papers, a single printed page with an address scrawled across the top. The word Veritas was stamped in bold letters at the top, followed by an address in the city. Underneath it, the one scribbled line made my heart drop.
The Order.
Did she know what they were yet? Who they were?
It wasn’t written like the rest of the document—everything clearly listed. This was scrawled, messy.
This was it. This was the connection she had found. This wasn’t only some coincidence. She was onto something, something that only I knew would get her in a lot of trouble.
I slipped the page into my pocket, glancing around the room again. I had enough for what I needed to bring back to my boss, but I wasn’t done yet.
The bed loomed in the center of the room, the blankets pulled tight, the pillows perfectly fluffed.
I crossed the space, running my fingers along the edge of the duvet, feeling the softness beneath my hands.
The thought of her lying there at night, completely unaware I had been so close, made my blood hum.
I leaned down, pressing my hand against the pillow, imagining her head resting there, her honey-blonde hair spread out like a halo.
I pulled back the blanket, slipping under the covers and turning my face into the pillow. It smelled like her hair.
What I wouldn’t give to cut some off and have it for myself.
My eyes drifted to her dresser and I jumped up, one of the drawers slightly ajar.
I couldn’t help myself. I slid one open, my fingers brushing against the neatly folded clothes inside.
Tank tops, soft and worn, still holding her scent.
I let it fall back into the drawer, my fingers trailing over the lace of her underwear, delicate and intimate.
My lip snarled at the thought of her wearing these for Aiden. He shouldn’t like these types of things.
She didn’t know I was here, touching her things, rifling through her life like it was mine to explore. I was in her space, her private world, and she was completely unaware. The thought was intoxicating.
She didn’t know how close I was. How easy it would be to find her, to get her alone. To make her pay for what she was digging into.
I moved to the closet, opening the door to reveal rows of clothes hung neatly in place. I ran my hands over the hangers until I saw it.
The red tube top.
The one with the word Psycho slashed across the chest in silver rhinestones, still slightly crumpled like she’d peeled it off.
I remembered it clinging to her back the night at the cemetery, soaked with heat, the fabric damp against her skin.
I could still see the curve of her shoulder as she pulled her hair into a knot, exposing the line of her neck.
The moment Aiden had ripped it off and tied it around her face.
I slipped it from the hanger and pressed it to my face, the heat of it imagined but real enough. The place her breasts had been pressed against, the way it clung to her face as she yelled out in pleasure.
I could almost taste her. The salt. The soft perfume. Something inside me cracked.
I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. Not this time.
But if I was going to take something, I needed to give something back. A gift. A reminder.
I dug into my coat pocket and pulled it out: the tiny porcelain cat. It was chipped and missing an eye, once part of a set I’d stolen from a neighbor years ago. I wondered if she liked cats. I wanted to know everything about her.
I carried the cat to her nightstand and set it down next to her phone charger—close enough that she’d knock it over when she reached for her phone one morning. I smiled at the thought.
Would she scream? Freeze? Would she finally understand that someone had been here, watching her, close enough to touch her dreams?
I looked around the room again, making sure the hangers were undisturbed and the bed unwrinkled. But the shirt was mine now. It belonged with me. I tucked it inside my jacket, close to my chest.
Then I turned to the door.
As I slipped out of the room, the door clicked shut behind me with a hush like a secret. The tank top was still warm against my ribs. The slip of paper burned a hole in my pocket. Her world was cracking open.
And soon, she’d realize—she’d already let me in.