Chapter 10 Eris
Idon’t go straight home after the coffee shop.
I walk.
For blocks.
No direction or purpose… Just motion and noise as I try to outrun the cold coil of realization tightening behind my ribs, letting the caffeine burn off while the dread settles under my skin like wet concrete.
That woman… The one in heels, in precision-made confidence and a smile that felt like a blade.
She knew me.
Not casually.
Not accidentally.
She knew.
She looked at me the way a spider looks at a fly that’s already wrapped in its web. Except I’m not twisted in anything, waiting to be someone’s dinner. Not even close.
But I do come to one glaringly obvious realization. Between Daniel and this woman, I’m going to end up killing someone. And I don’t know if I can explain that to my HimLock guys.
If I do, and they don’t take it well… I’ll have to kill them too, but I desperately don’t want to do that.
By the time I make it back to my apartment, the sun is sliding low and gold across the city, and my phone has buzzed what feels like six hundred times.
It’s really five messages from HimLock and twelve messages from Roo.
I drop onto my couch and finally open them. Roo is on her way here since I wasn’t answering her, so I don’t bother texting her back. But the guys? They aren’t coming to me to explain this shit, and I still have questions.
Locke:
Eris. Say something.
She came to see us, and we shut the door in her face.
We should have known she’d find you.
Tell us what she said.
Are you home safe?
My jaw clenches so tight pain lances down my neck.
She knew my name.
She knew I was being watched.
She said it as a warning but smiled as if she were bored.
I almost want to ask for her name, though I know better. If I ask, and she suddenly comes up missing, they’ll look at me with suspicion.
Eris:
Who is she?
The reply is slow. Too fucking slow considering that’s the third time I’ve asked.
Locke:
She’s no one important.
We knew her once, a lifetime ago.
You don’t have to worry about her.
I grit my teeth, but quickly relax my mouth and stand to pace my living room.
Eris:
Do not tell me what I have to worry about.
Tell me how she knows me.
This time the pause is longer… Long enough to feel intentional, like someone deciding how much truth I deserve. Am I worth pennies or gold?
My pulse drums as if mocking the feeling of coins falling into a well.
Locke:
She likes to keep tabs on us.
On anyone or anything we get close to.
We’re still trying to figure out how she found you, though.
That hits wrong. I make an aggravated sound in the back of my throat as I consider hurling my phone across the apartment. Instead, I let my irritation bleed into HimLock.
Eris:
So I’m a possession now?
A new toy of yours she wants to break?
Locke:
No.
You’re the one thing she’ll never understand.
And that makes you dangerous.
Dangerous.
Not frightened.
Not prey.
Not fragile.
Dangerous.
I’m unclear whether that’s a compliment or a warning.
But maybe it’s manipulation.
I am clear about one thing, though…
Someone from their past walked right up to me in broad daylight and looked me over like she already had plans for me.
And the men hiding behind the HimLock app still won’t tell me the truth.
“Dangerous.” I scoff at the camera in the corner of my living room. “Is that what you want?”
I should like that word. At any other time, I would preen over it. But right now it feels like a misdirection. Like they’re defending themselves, not me.
My fingers hover for a minute too long, and my impulsive thumb hits send before I’m ready.
Eris:
Tell me the truth.
Fuck it.
Let’s push.
Eris:
About her.
About you.
About everything.
The chat bubbles pop up and disappear.
Once, twice… six different times.
Then the screen fades to black in my hand, showing me only my reflection.
No reply.
Pennies…
And the silence that follows in their wake doesn’t leave me feeling fear or anxiety.
It’s anger with a sharp, clean edge to it.
Because if they want me dangerous?
Fine.
I can do dangerous.
The crazed knock comes just as I’m pretending there isn’t a shadow lurking over my shoulder in the apartment that should be empty.
Not the woman in the coffee shop and her vague warnings and-or threats.
Not the silence from the app that feels like someone holding their breath on the other end.
No… I’m pretending that I don’t notice the eyes on my back.
I can’t tell if I feel them watching me through the cameras or if I should search the cabinets and closets for Daniel.
I open the door to Roo’s wild hair and blazing hazel eyes. Her sweatshirt is on backward, expression feral with concern. And I cringe as she pushes me into my apartment and slams the door behind her.
She holds up her phone as if she’s about to beat someone to death with it.
Me.
She wants to beat me with it…
“You weren’t answering my texts.”
“I wasn’t answering anyone’s messages,” I say, stepping aside so she can stomp into the kitchen.
Roo kicks her shoes behind her and tosses her sweatshirt in the general direction of the couch like this is her second home. All the while, her eyes don’t stop scanning me for damage.
“Are you okay?” she asks, eyes narrowed when she finds no outward signs of harm.
“No.”
She nods like that’s exactly the answer she expected now that she knows I’m not bleeding or wounded. There is no inquisition into what happened today… There is only Roo ducking into my kitchen to grab a bottle of liquor and two shot glasses.
“Wanna talk about it?” she inquires as she pours me a shot.
“No.”
“You want a distraction?”
“Yes.”
She drinks her hot vodka as she observes me. “Bar or chaos?”
“Both,” I reply, downing the liquid fire.
Roo’s grin is wicked. “Let me get my lipstick.”
She disappears into the bathroom, leaving a scent of citrus perfume behind. I reach for the first black dress I can find in my closet that has a less than respectable hemline.
My phone pings as I drop my shirt onto the floor. The sound leads me back into the living room, where I left my empty shot glass and device on the coffee table. I sink onto the arm of the couch and open the app.
Locke:
Where are you going?
I roll my eyes.
Eris:
Out.
Locke:
With Romily Sokolov?
I glare at the camera and try to recall a time that I’ve mentioned her name to them. Or a time that I’ve used anything but her nickname when talking out loud.
It shouldn’t surprise me. They are stalking me after all…
Eris:
Yes.
The pause between messages is long enough for me to change clothes and pull my hair into an artfully messy knot atop my head. But I keep peeking at my phone like the addict I am.
Locke:
Are you safe?
I snort under my breath.
Eris:
Are you?
Locke:
We’re always safe.
We’re not the ones being hunted.
My fingers tighten around the phone. I type fast, my ire fueling me.
Eris:
No.
You’re the ones being watched by an ex who thinks they still have a claim on you. Which you… I don’t know.
You’re not hunting me, but you have been stalking me.
And now I’m done playing hide and seek.
I will see you tomorrow.
In person.
This time, the pause is a full ten-minute stop, and I imagine them freaking out on the other side of the screen.
I haven’t found them yet, haven’t even started looking really… But if I were a betting woman, I’d wager a large sum of money on them not covering any tracks. They likely thought they’d never need that kind of protection.
Locke:
Good.
I smile up at the camera as I type, trusting my memory to guide my fingers over the keyboard.
Eris:
Do I even know who you are?
Do I want you?
Are you mine?
Or am I just another user testing your limits?
I close the app before they can reply and toss my phone onto the couch as I wander back into my bedroom. Roo is still straightening her hair, so I sit at my vanity and start my makeup.
I’m not avoiding HimLock because I’m afraid of the truth, but because I’m not sure which version of the truth I’ll believe right now.
And because I’m done being handled.
I’m not quite as dangerous as Roo, but I’m not as soft as I appear, either.
I’m not the woman who gets intimidated by a nepo baby in heels… Or the woman who curls up and cries over a stalker. Or the woman who lets someone else decide the narrative.
While having stalkers isn’t ideal, I’m in a much better place to deal with them than most of the population.
If the country club princess thinks she can make me jealous of someone she’s clearly already lost… Then she doesn’t understand who she just challenged.
I like them, for some ungodly reason, so she should be thankful that when I take them out of her grasp, I’m doing it because I want them… not because the petty monster inside my chest demands retribution.
Although I will also be petty.
I grab my leather jacket and a shade of lipstick I only wear when I’m done being polite.
Roo comes out, adjusting her earrings absently, and stops when she sees me. Wicked delight crawls across her features.
“Damn,” she purrs, circling me and smacking my ass. “What’s this look?”
“I think I’ll call it reprisal,” I answer, snorting when she shakes her head. “How about revenge?”
“Ah, that’s my favorite color.” She grins, bumping me with her elbow. “Doesn’t it just feel so… Crimson coded?”
I smile as I nod, her words settling in the center of my chest.
The hunt has officially changed direction.
And it’s time to show everyone who the apex predator is.