12. Adrian
12
ADRIAN
I pace the kitchen of my chocolate boutique, running my fingers through my disheveled hair. The stainless steel surfaces mock my usual pristine appearance. Empty mixing bowls clutter the workspace—evidence of my fourth failed attempt today to recreate the perfect truffle.
“You need to get it together.” Gabe leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “This isn’t like you.”
“She knows, Gabe. She knows everything.” My hand grips the counter. “About the blood. The victims.”
“Christ.” Gabe pushes off the door and approaches cautiously. “And she hasn’t gone to the police?”
A bitter laugh escapes my throat. “No. That’s what makes her perfect. She understands the artistry, the depth it brings to my creations.”
“Listen to yourself. This isn’t about the chocolate anymore.”
“You don’t get it.” I whirl around, sending a bowl clattering to the floor. “She tastes what I taste. The fear, the emptiness—she experiences it all. No one else has ever...”
“Adrian.” Gabe’s voice carries a warning. “You’re spiraling. This is exactly what we can’t afford.”
“I need her.” The words come out raw, desperate. “She completes the work.”
“The work?” Gabe’s eyes narrow. “Or you?”
I sink onto a steel stool, head in my hands. The truth claws its way up my throat. “Both.”
“You’ve never lost control like this before. Not over anyone.”
“Because there’s never been anyone like her.” I look up at my oldest friend, seeing the concern etched on his face. “Help me, Gabe. I don’t know how to let her go.”
“If she’s such a liability...” Gabe tilts his head, eyes cold. “I could take care of her for you. Add her to your collection of ingredients.”
The suggestion hits like a bolt of lightning. My vision turns red. In two strides, I cross the kitchen and slam Gabe against the stainless steel wall, my hand crushing his throat. Despite his height, I tower over him, muscles coiled with rage.
“Don’t you dare.” I press harder, watching his face redden. “If you look at her wrong, I’ll end you myself. Do you understand?”
Gabe claws at my grip, his usual composed demeanor cracking. Even with his broad frame and muscled build, he’s no match for my strength—honed from years of hauling heavy equipment and subduing victims.
“She. Is. Mine.” Each word comes out as a growl. “No one touches her. No one hurts her. Not even you.”
Gabe tries to speak, but I tighten my grip. “I need to hear you say it. Say you understand.”
He manages a weak nod, and I release him. He doubles over, gasping for air, hand rubbing his throat where angry red marks are already forming.
“Jesus Christ, Adrian.” His voice comes out hoarse. “You’ve really lost it over this woman.”
I step back, my hands clenched with anger. The mere thought of Maya’s blood being spilled—her fear being harvested like my other victims—makes me want to tear the world apart.
“She’s different,” I say, the words coming out softer than intended. “She’s not just another ingredient, Gabe. She’s essential. Like air.”
Gabe massages his throat, keeping his distance now. “Fine. I won’t touch her. But you need to think this through.”
“What’s there to think about?” I turn back to my workstation, trying to steady my hands.
“She discovered your secret on her own. That’s different than if you’d told her.” Gabe’s voice remains rough. “She wasn’t ready. You didn’t get to present it your way. Explain the art behind it.”
My movements are still as his words sink in. He’s right. Maya stumbled onto the truth without context, without understanding the deeper meaning behind my work.
“The way she tastes emotions in food...” Gabe continues. “Maybe that’s why she figured it out. But it also means she might be the only one who could truly appreciate your actions.”
I close my eyes, remembering how Maya’s face lit up during our tastings, how she described the depths of flavor, the complexity of emotions she discovered.
“You need to make her understand.” Gabe clears his throat. “Show her the beauty in what you create. Let her experience the full spectrum of what your... special ingredient brings to the chocolate.”
“She ran.” The memory of her horror-struck face twists in my gut.
“Of course she ran. You’re a killer, Adrian. That’s not an easy thing to accept.” Gabe straightens his collar. “But she hasn’t exposed you. That means something.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides. “So, what do you suggest?”
“She needs time to understand.” Gabe paces the kitchen, his earlier fear replaced by calculation. “Valentine’s Day is coming up. Your biggest event of the year.”
My hands hover over the chocolate molds. “What are you suggesting?”
“Create the perfect environment. Controlled. Private.” He taps his fingers against the steel counter. “That suite above your workshop—the one you’ve been renovating?”
Heat floods my chest. “It’s almost finished.”
“Perfect timing. Hold her there through Valentine’s Day. Show her your process and the art behind it. Let her experience everything in a setting where she can’t run.”
The idea blazes through me like lightning… Maya would be captive and attentive, forced to see the beauty in my work… no distractions, no escape—just us.
“She’d fight.” Excitement builds in my veins.
“At first.” Gabe shrugs. “But you’ve seen how she responds to you. Give her time and space to process. After a few days, she’ll understand.”
I close my eyes, imagining Maya in my private sanctuary. Teaching her, tasting with her, and showing her the intimate connection between blood and chocolate. Between art and death.
“The timing would work.” My fingers trace a chocolate mold. “Everyone expects me to disappear before the Valentine’s collection launch. I go into seclusion every year to perfect the easter recipes.”
“And this year, you’ll have the perfect tasting assistant.” Gabe’s smile carries a hint of relief—he knows he’s steered me toward a solution that doesn’t end in violence.
“Yes.” The word comes out like a prayer. “My little critic, trapped in a cage of chocolate and luxury.”
“Just be careful.” Gabe heads for the door. “Don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment.”
But we both know it’s too late for that warning. She’s already clouding my judgment, and nothing Gabe says will change that.