Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Luna
Consciousness hits me like a sledgehammer to my temples.
Morning sunlight streams through the gap in my curtains, thanks to Juni claiming her usual spot on the windowsill, and each ray feels like it’s stabbing into my brain.
I groan and burrow deeper under the covers, surrounded by Sage and Willow’s warm weight.
Why can’t Juni just stay in bed with the rest of us?
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, which tastes like I licked the floor of Ricky and Zorro’s cage.
I’m never drinking again.
The words taste like lies. Maren and I always say that when the bottles are empty and the sun rises.
Last night comes back in disjointed flashes.
Chinese food, way too much of it, because Maren always orders enough to feed an army.
Then, bottle after bottle of wine as we tried to drown out the stress from the past few days.
Daryl Rawlings’ dead body, Ghost’s injuries, and that poor donkey dragged behind his bastard owner’s truck for five miles.
I should drag that asshole behind my truck and see how he likes it.
We sat on my living room floor, drowning in our glasses, as we passed sentences on monsters who tortured innocent animals. Death by fire. Death by blade. Death by their own methods turned back on them.
And then… oh, fuck.
Bile rises in my throat as another memory surfaces.
Standing at my bedroom window after Maren and I stumbled upstairs.
Seeing the tall figure in my yard, moonlight catching that disturbing mask of what looked like a wolf’s face.
My watcher. My stalker. The stranger who’s been watching me for almost two weeks now.
Do I really have a stalker?
I should have called Maren into my room the second I saw him to prove I’m not losing my mind. Then, I should have called Karen. Instead, the alcohol hijacked my brain and body, twisting terror into desire, transforming it into something electric and dangerous.
I press my face into the pillow. I’d stared right back at him through the window, daring him to look away first, as I pulled off my shirt, unhooked my bra, and let everything drop to the ground.
He’d turned to stone when I started stripping, his gaze tracking my every movement through the window. I let him look his fill, knowing he’d never get closer than the glass between us, letting him watch what he could never have.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m a thirty-two-year-old doctor and a respected member of my small community, not some hussy who strips in her window for masked strangers.
But I can’t deny the thrill. Electricity still crackles under my skin at the memory. The raw excitement of being the center of someone’s universe, even a stranger’s dangerous attention. Of taking control of the fear I’ve been feeling for days in the most unexpected way.
Then, the spell had shattered like glass. One second I was putting on a show like some kind of slutty exhibitionist, and the next I was yanking fabric across the window while my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.
A sharp knock at my bedroom door jolts me from my mortifying memories.
“Rise and shine, Doc!” Maren’s voice is far too cheerful and far too loud. “It’s almost seven, you lazy ass!”
She barges in, looking annoyingly put-together in jeans and a faded Sanctuary sweatshirt, hair in a messy bun that somehow looks intentional. The only signs of her hangover are slight shadows under her eyes and the death grip on her coffee mug.
“I hate you,” I groan, pulling the comforter over my head. “Go away and let me die in peace.”
“Not a chance.” The edge of my bed dips as she sits down. Willow meows in protest at being disturbed. “I made coffee. And I found some stale bagels that might be salvageable with enough cream cheese.”
“How are you even functioning?” I peek out from my fabric fortress, squinting at her. “We killed at least two bottles of red.”
“Three.” She smirks. “And I’m dying inside, trust me. I just handle my liquor better than your lightweight ass. Advantages of my extra padding.”
I push myself up with one arm, my skull pounding with each heartbeat, while Maren slurps her coffee.
“Come on, get up. We’ve got animals to check, and you’re useless until you’re vertical and caffeinated.”
“No.”
I don’t care how petulant I sound.
“I’ll make you French toast if you get your ass out of bed in the next five minutes.”
“With bananas,” I grumble, but I’m already contemplating the monumental effort of sitting up.
“Sure. I want blueberries too. This room is like a cave.” She stands and walks toward the window. “Let’s get some light in here.”
“No!” I yank the covers over my head again. “The light will literally kill me.”
“When did you become such a drama queen?” Maren snorts and I hear her pull the curtain aside. “Where’s Juni? There she is. Hello, beautiful.” Juniper purrs, the little traitor. “How’s my favorite pus—”
The unexpected scream replacing the softness of her words sends me bolting upright, my hangover forgotten.
“What? What is it?” I scramble out of bed, tripping over Willow in my haste.
Maren points out the window, her face drained of color. “Luna… there’s… What the fuck is in your driveway? Are those fucking bodies?”
I rush to her side and look out the window, the sun shooting through my skull like a laser beam. Then my blood turns to ice.
Two human shapes lie motionless on the gravel, bodies wrapped in plastic that glints in the morning sun.
Just like Daryl Rawlings.
“Oh, fuck. Not again.”
“More dead bodies?” Maren grabs my arms, sending Juniper scurrying off the windowsill with a hiss. “Why the hell are there more dead bodies in your driveway?”
For one wild, irrational moment, I think of the wolf-masked stranger, of my watcher, and of what I did last night. The two thoughts collide in my brain with horrifying clarity.
He was here last night.
Now, there are dead bodies in my driveway.
“I know I said this before, but you need security, Luna.”
Karen crosses her arms, and her chin lifts. I recognize that look. She’s not letting this go.
I lean back in Grandpa’s ancient desk chair, grimacing as it squeaks in protest, the sound echoing through my small office. I stroke Shadow’s fur as he presses against my leg, the familiar comfort anchors me when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control.
“Karen, I appreciate the concern, but—”
“Three bodies, Luna. Three. Dumped on your property, wrapped up like presents.” She winces, but frustration etches her face. “Whoever’s doing this has an unnatural interest in you that concerns me.”
She’s right. There is someone who has an interest in me, but I don’t know who he is or why.
Ghost fingers crawl across my skin, the phantom weight of his gaze still burning through glass and memory, leaving invisible marks that pulse with every heartbeat.
My skin flushes with a combination of shame and something darker.
And I try to piece together why some buried part of me had craved his attention even as fear clawed at my lungs.
The woman who’d peeled away her clothes for a masked stranger feels like someone else. Someone I don’t recognize but can’t quite disown, a mystery wrapped in wine and reckless desire.
Karen’s eyes search my face. I should tell her everything right now. Instead, my voice dies somewhere between my brain and my mouth. He’s the one leaving these bodies. I know it like I know my own name. But why is he doing it? What kind of psycho leaves dead bodies on a person’s doorstep?
“All three people are connected to cases that came to your sanctuary.” Karen’s voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. “That’s Thomas and Bertha Meyers out there.”
I force my features into an impassive mask. “Are you sure it’s them?”
“Yes, I recognize their faces.”
My teeth grind together while something bright and terrible blooms in my chest because the Meyers got what they deserved.
The euphoria lasts three heartbeats before shame turns my stomach inside out.
This version of myself, the woman finding joy in their death, terrifies me more than any masked stalker.
“I understand the impulse not to care.” Karen’s voice is softer now. “God knows I’ve wanted to throttle these monsters myself. But someone’s targeting these people and using your sanctuary as a dumping ground. That makes you either a target or a suspect, Luna. And you’re not a suspect.”
I tug on my messy blonde knot, releasing the strands and running my hands through them. Even the small movement makes my eyes hurt, my hangover lingering despite two cups of coffee, three Advil, and the greasiest eggs and bacon Maren could cook up because I was out of bread for French toast.
“You need protection. Security cameras at a minimum.”
“I run a wildlife sanctuary in the middle of nowhere, Karen. My budget barely covers medical supplies and feed.”
She places her hand on the handle of her holstered gun. “I’m not asking you to install Fort Knox. Just something more than those useless wildlife cameras. Besides, it’s not only for you. What about Maren? The volunteers? The animals?”
Irritation burns through me as I narrow my eyes. She’s trying to manipulate me, and we both know it.
Shadow’s head jerks toward the window, ears up. I follow his gaze, but the treeline looks empty.
“Fine. I’ll look into some options.”
Karen nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, I’ll check back with you later, but be careful. And have someone stay here with you. I know you can’t leave the animals, but get someone, preferably someone big and male. With a gun.”
“I have a gun, Karen. I can take care of myself.”
“I mean it, Luna. Whoever’s doing this is fixated on you, and that’s never a good thing.”
After she leaves, I let my head fall onto the desk. Pain explodes through my skull, but the cool wood feels good against my skin.