Chapter 12 Holland
HOLLAND
On high alert for any sign of Cooper, I rushed toward my car, wobbling on my high heels.
The parking lot was deserted, making it easy to spot any movement, yet an unsettling feeling gnawed at me.
Maybe Kip had scared Cooper enough to keep him away, but my doubts lingered.
Draco, however, was a whole different problem, one I couldn’t shake off.
I reached my car as I fumbled with the keys, my mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. As soon as I climbed in, I locked all the doors, fastened my seatbelt, and started the engine, while my thoughts still raced.
My pulse hadn’t slowed since Kip had peeled out of the parking lot, leaving me alone with a head full of chaos.
Why did I feel safer with him?
The man was darkness, plain and simple. Brooding, dangerous, unreadable. His features carried a weight I recognized—maybe because I’d seen it in my own reflection too many times. A survivor’s weight.
Massaging my temples, I exhaled a shuddering breath.
It should terrify me—the way he’d handled Cooper, the way he moved like violence was stitched into his bones, but instead, all I felt was … relief.
God, what was wrong with me?
My throat tightened, a sharp sting building between my shoulder blades. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the loneliness catching up to me. Maybe it was the fact that when Kip stepped into that room—for the first time in years—I hadn’t had to fight alone.
My fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel.
I didn’t want to need him.
But right now, all I could think about was the rough gentleness in his words, the quiet way he’d sat on the edge of the desk instead of crowding me. The raw, dangerous promise in his words: that he would deal with Cooper. That he would stand between Draco and me.
A shiver rippled through me—part fear, part something else.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
This wasn’t happening. I wouldn’t let it.
But when I opened my eyes, my heart gave a traitorous little stutter.
Because no matter how much I tried to deny it, the feeling wasn’t going away.
My phone chimed with a message, and I hesitated, my hand hovering over my purse. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t hide from the world, and I needed to check my cell. I finally fished out the phone and tapped the screen, unsure if I wanted to see whatever message awaited me.
Vivian’s Dry Cleaners:
Your blouse is ready to be picked up.
I tapped out my response.
Me:
Did you figure out what the stain was?
A laughing emoji was her only response. I frowned, unsure what to make of it. Did it mean something more, or was it just a simple laugh? I would have to ask her when I got there, though part of me hesitated to know the answer.
I shifted the car into drive, easing out of the parking lot as “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” by Empara Mi and dreamchild played.
I couldn’t understand why my playlist had taken such a twisted turn.
While I appreciated a good dark playlist, it dragged me back to my past with Draco and … the death certificate.
Ten minutes later, I arrived at the dry cleaners. I paused, looking around nervously, half expecting to catch a glimpse of something, or someone, out of place. If Cooper or Draco were tailing me, they were doing a damn good job staying out of sight.
I opened the door, the bell jingling to announce my arrival, a sound that somehow made me even more anxious.
A dark-haired, brown-eyed lady emerged from the back of the store with a mischievous smile that left me both curious and wary.
“That was fast. Are you going to wear your blouse for a hot date?” Vivian asked.
Although I’d used Vivian’s dry cleaners since I’d returned to Portland, she hadn’t brought up my dating or lack of one before.
“No hot date.” I smiled at her.
Vivian nodded as if she knew something I didn’t. She disappeared around the corner and then a minute later returned with my blouse.
“Good as new.” She handed me the item.
“The stain came out?” I asked, eyeing the front of the shirt through the clear plastic bag.
“It did.” Her voice held a hint of teasing. “Must’ve been one hell of a night.”
Confused by her comment, I asked, “What was it?”
Vivian chuckled and looked around the store before she spoke. “Just making sure it’s only you and me here.”
Why was she acting so weird?
Vivian patted my hand as if she were congratulating me on a job well-done. “Semen.”
I blanched as I felt the color drain from my cheeks. “What? No. There has to be a mistake.”
“I’ve been doing this for fifteen years, honey. That was definitely semen.”
I stood there completely dumbfounded. For seven months, I hadn’t dated anyone, let alone allowed someone to invade my space so intimately.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This only confirmed my worst fears, and I couldn’t blame my PTSD or Ambien any longer.
Someone had been in my home last night, maybe even sooner.
But who? Draco? Cooper? How long had they been in town?
How long had I lived under the illusion of safety, unaware of the lurking danger?
Was my house bugged? My phone? Part of me wanted to dismiss it all, but the other part couldn't shake off the paranoia.
Vivian winked and said, “At least they missed your face.”
If I hadn’t been in a full-blown panic, I would have laughed at Vivian’s last comment.
“You know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones who have the most fun.” I gave her a tight-lipped grin. Or something like that. “This is my favorite blouse. Thank you so much for getting it clean.”
“You bet. Have a really good evening.” She laughed as I hurried out of the store.
Short, ragged breaths blasted through me as I struggled to keep calm, my mind torn between wanting to rush to my house and rip the place apart for any hint that I hadn't been alone at times and fearing what I might discover.
I barely made it out of the dry cleaners before the nausea hit.
Shit! Someone came on my top!
Vivian’s words echoed in my skull. I’ve been doing this for fifteen years, honey. That was definitely semen.
My legs trembled as I put my foot on the brake and pushed the start button of the car. The blouse lay beside me on the passenger seat, like a crime scene, neatly wrapped in plastic and horror.
I don’t remember what happened.
I don’t remember.
A few minutes later, I was speeding down the highway as fast as the law allowed, my thoughts a chaotic jumble.
I questioned everything I’d dismissed lately as stress, replaying moments I’d tortured myself with relentless doubt, obsessing over every detail, but nothing gnawed at me more than the unsettling reality of Ally’s death certificate being mysteriously moved.
I gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white, heart slamming behind my ribs like it wanted to escape me. I kept driving, but the road started to blur at the edges. Every red light pulsed like it was mocking me. Every set of headlights behind me felt like someone was following.
A chill crept up my spine as eerie music began to play in my car. “What the hell? I’ve never heard this song in my life.” I glanced at the stereo, watching as the title scrolled across the screen: “Ring-A Ring-A Roses.”
I listened, the lyrics twisting the familiar nursery rhyme into a sinister promise of finding someone, coming to get them, and stealing their last breath, leaving me questioning what was real.
Hazy memories of last night toyed with me.
A flash of metal.
The glint of a red mask.
A voice saying, Mine.
My thighs tensed as I remembered a mouth pressed to mine, rough touch …
A car horn blared with a deafening wail, jolting me with a shockwave that shot through me.
I veered out of the lane, gasping for air as adrenaline surged through my veins.
With my heart pounding like a war drum, I skidded onto the shoulder, my hands trembling violently against the steering wheel.
I swallowed over the big lump in my throat, trying to block out all the chaos.
“Jesus Christ. I’m losing my goddamn mind.
” Hazy images of the masked man invaded my thoughts, and my thighs clenched again.
An overwhelming dark, twisted desire spread through me like wildfire.
Maybe I liked being fucked and not knowing by who …
if that was what it even was. Oh my god.
What the hell is wrong with me? Was I turned on …
by being fucked while asleep? Used? No name, no face—only rough hands and a word in the dark.
I hated how my body responded to it. And I hated even more that a part of me craved it again.
A part of me understood that my sexual appetite wasn’t normal.
Not after what I’d lived through. I thought it might settle down after healing and therapy, but apparently not. I still wanted the dark and fucked up.
“No!” I slammed my palm against the steering wheel.
A part of me wanted what my mind couldn’t accept.
That terrified me more than anything. Dammit, I was losing my shit.
My new reality was distorted … a mess. It was only a matter of time before I slid down the slippery slope into madness after everything I’d lived through.
The darkness wasn’t just chasing me. It had already climbed into bed, fucked me, and whispered my name.