Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Berlyn
The shadows were back.
That’s my first thought in the morning, immediately followed by regret.
Oh my fucking god. What did I drink last night?
My stomach turns and my head pounds before I’ve even opened my eyes. A pathetic whimper escapes my lips but quickly turns to a groan as I force my eyes open. Almost instantly I pull the blanket over my head to block out the sunlight.
Too bright.
I lick my lips and shake my head in disgust at the dry and crusty feeling. I need water. Even my mouth has a weird taste in it.
Taking deep breaths, I pull up my big girl panties and try to sit up. As soon as the blanket falls off from me, I cringe at the light again but catch sight of water and pain meds on my bedside table.
Groaning in a mix of relief and pain, I grab both and take three pills, chugging down half the water bottle as I do.
Ugh, my mouth really does taste awful. I plop back onto my pillows after finishing the rest of the water. I should get up and brush my teeth, wash the makeup from my face, and do some of the things around the house that need to be done.
I don’t have the motivation to do any of that. I only want to curl back up and sort through my memories of last night. What the fuck did I drink to make me feel this way?
The shadows.
They were back last night.
How did I even get home last night?
I remember bits and pieces from the night. Everything is clear from when we got to the party. Weston was being so sweet and holding my hand while Jude and Summer matched each other’s chaotic energy.
We took shots…I shake my head. Tequila is never a good idea. No wonder I feel like a bus hit me and then backed up right over my lifeless body.
What happened after the shots? The hangxiety has never hit quite this hard before. I should call Summer and get her version of events. Even reaching for my phone seems next to impossible right now though.
I don’t have very many memories with her after we took shots in the kitchen. She disappeared with Jude to scope out men, a twist I never would have seen coming and then…
Memories flash through my mind.
Me on the dance floor with Ezra. Him flirting with me and telling me it was about time I noticed.
My heart starts beating out of my chest and I nearly choke as more broken memories come crashing back. I saw the Ghostface mask. Was my stalker there?
Was he watching me?
No, it wasn’t just once I saw him. It was multiple times. In different places. The whole night feels like a fever dream.
Was I dancing with him?
No. That can’t be. That’s impossible. West never left my side. But why do I have a memory of turning around and seeing the mask? Everything starts to get blurry after I took that shot from a guy walking by.
Jude was with us for part of the night, but later…
He…
Oh my fucking god.
No, no I didn’t.
I shoot up in my bed, blanket flying as I look around the room, expecting the answer to my memories to be written on my walls. There’s no way what I’m remembering can be correct. It can’t.
It has to have been a very crazy and realistic dream. A fever dream. A fantasy–a hot one–that my brain cooked up after spending so much time with them and Summer’s crazy theories.
In no world does anything else make sense, because what do you mean I hooked up with all three brothers last night. Together. In the middle of a Halloween party.
My brain simply can’t be trusted. I was too fucked up to even remember correctly.
Warmth spreads between my legs and a flash of Ezra’s dark eyes looking up at me from between my legs is too vivid to be fake. Oh my god. I turned into a harlot.
Forget the underground dungeon drunk Berlyn belongs in, throw her in the sea and let her be lost for the rest of eternity. Or maybe a dungeon is exactly where she belongs. A sex dungeon.
I could cry. I need Summer.
How am I supposed to ever face the guys again?
I’m not even totally sure about what happened. My stalker was there, no part of me doubts it was him. The feeling of being watched crawled over my skin last night. It’s a sensation that’s hard to forget. One I wouldn’t have conjured up without a reason.
Why can’t I remember everything that happened? Why can’t I remember what I said? Why can’t I remember what they said? It’s right there on the edges of my brain, but I can’t seem to grasp them.
So like the shadows from last night.
The shadows. Could it really be my stalker?
I need to get up. The pain meds are finally kicked in, not enough to make me feel whole, but at least enough to feel human. I need more water and I need to put pieces together from last night.
Starting with how the fuck I got home.
Throwing my sheets off of me, I realize for the first time, I’m not in my dress from last night. I’m wearing a pair of my favorite pajamas, satin shorts and tank. There is no way I would have picked these out when I was blacked out.
I’m more of a fall asleep on the living room floor kind of drunk. Shoes, makeup, jewelry still on. Running my hands through my hair, I don’t find the clip that was holding my hair back either and a sick feeling begins to build in my gut.
Adrenaline gives me the push I need to get out of bed and almost immediately I know my stalker was here.
The laundry basket that’s been overflowing with clean clothes for over a week is empty, little things around the room are tidied, and I would bet money the dishes Summer and I left in the sink last night are already washed.
Is he also the reason I’m in pajamas? I look in the mirror to find my face clean of any makeup. How the fuck did he manage to wash my face and dress me without me waking up? I’ve been known to be a heavy sleeper but not like that.
How fucked up was I?
How fucked up am I still? Because there are equal levels of terror and excitement racing through me, making my heart beat erratically. I may just be losing my mind. What else would explain me being relieved that he didn’t disappear with the security system.
The security system.
How did he bypass it?
I force myself to take a deep breath and look for my phone. It’s in the very last place I expected it to be, on the charger on my bedside table.
Why is it kind of sweet that even as my stalker is being a complete creep, breaking into my house and treating me like his own personal little doll, he also does all these little things to make sure I’m taken care of.
I stop dead in my tracks, my smile slipping as I catch sight of the note next to my phone. He really was here again.
I allowed them to have a taste, it only seems fair I stole some for myself too.
But don’t worry, Little Rabbit. We’d never leave you out.
Them? Who is them?
Oh fuck me. More of the pieces come together. The masked man leaning against a tree, watching.
He was watching. From the trees. He stood there, his attention locked on us across the way.
He watched when Jude inched his fingers up my thigh, when West held me by my throat. He nodded his approval when West told me to beg.
A shiver races down my throat, but the heat blooming low in my belly belies that it’s only fear I feel at the memory.
There was no terror as I stared at him last night.
As I felt his permission to let the word slip past my lips as if I needed it in order to be with the guys.
As if a part of me already belonged to my stalker.
To my shadows?
Always there even when I don’t see him.
How much longer can I keep lying to myself? And what about the guys?
More than anything, confusion seems to drown me and it’s hard to shake it off through the hangover fog making my brain move slowly. I have got to focus.
Hot or not, sweet or not, a stalker is a stalker. Someone who can’t be trusted with my safety. Only I can do something to protect myself, and it’s not opening my door and legs and letting a masked stranger do what they please with me.
Well…
No, Berlyn. Fuck.
It’s only hot in romance books when there’s no chance of actually fucking dying at the end. No one is guaranteeing me a happy fucking ending. I’ve got to provide that shit for myself. And I can’t do that if I’m dead.
Let’s do this, girl. We got this. The pep talk to myself is not really working, but we’re going to try anyway.
Security system. We have it for a reason.
I bypass all the texts, we can circle back to those, and open my security app. The alarm was disarmed by Summer, set from the house, and then almost two hours later was disarmed again from the house with my code. It wasn’t set again for hours.
No one knows my code.
Not even Summer, she has her own.
It’s not written down anywhere, the numbers have no meaning or context to me. There is no way someone could have guessed it. Which only leaves one option. Someone is watching a hell of a lot more closely than I thought.
Summer’s camera comment from the night before tickles the back of my brain. It can’t be. Right? That would be impossible. How would anyone have planted cameras in and around my house without me noticing?
I sigh. The same way he broke into my house for weeks and did my chores before I truly began to question it.
Maybe I was dropped on my head as a baby one too many times.
Scrolling through the footage from my doorbell camera, I stop a few minutes before the alarm was disengaged. Right there, caught on film is the mask once more. Only it’s not one person, but two.
And there’s the fucking finger wave all over again.
My heart gets caught in my throat.
I have hot, masked, stalkers—no wait. Not hot. Crime is not hot. This is not supposed to be hot.
Looking at the note again, I reread it. I hadn’t paid much attention to the second line, too caught on the first line. But it does say we.
We’d never leave you out.
The taste on my tongue. More than morning breath. I dart my tongue out to trace my lips. The dried crusty feeling is gone. Not chapped.
Defiled. Marked.
Owned.