Dante
I shut the door behind me and run my finger through my hair, gripping so tight I think I’ve ripped a few chunks out. Luna has a fuckin’ stalker.
Someone who isn’t me and intends to harm her.
“Fuck,” I swear, exhaling, trying to keep the darkness that haunts me from taking control of the situation.
Luna needs you to keep her safe. She’s defenseless and lives alone. You won’t be able to save her just like you couldn’t save your mom.
Kill them.
Kill them all for her.
Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. KILL.
I strip off my clothes and quickly get in the shower, letting the icy water run over my face to drown out the darkness.
Do you want Luna to end up murdered? They’ve already proven to be unstable enough to enter her home uninvited. You know it’s only a matter of time before they take it even further. You should know this, given your profession.
My profession.
I told Luna I work in cybersecurity, but in reality, I’m a freelance contract killer, hired by bad people on the dark web to do bad things to those they hate. Anyone with a pretty penny can put out a call on the dark web, and people like me put in a bid for the job.
It’s like eBay, but for murderers.
Once you’re in contact with them after outbidding everyone, they’ll give you all the details you need to know to complete the hit, making easy money.
Given that Luna’s apartment is untouched, it suggests to me that this is someone who’s been hired. Not a single item in her home was stolen—no clothes or anything that might satisfy the needs of an obsessed person. Luna was the sole target, and the intruder was after her.
This isn’t a stalker; this was an unsuccessful hit.
The darkness is right.
Everything hits me at once, and it feels like the air in the room stills. I turn off the water and stand in the humid bathroom air.
Luna’s not dealing with some run-of-the-mill neighborhood peeping tom. She’s dealing with someone like me—someone who was hired to kidnap or kill Luna.
Who is she? Finding no information on her makes more sense now, but to have a hit on her?
Is she some bigwig's daughter? No. No, she said her parents died when she was eighteen, and she’s been on her own ever since.
Who would want to hurt her? My racing thoughts make me dizzy, and I grip the sink to steady myself.
I need to enhance the security in her apartment and install more cameras—
The cameras.
I was listening to the live stream on the cameras I placed in her apartment on the way home to make sure she got home safe, and when I heard her scream, I almost dropped my bike in the street. I need to review the footage to see if I can identify who broke in.
If I know them, I’ll pay them a little visit, and double whatever they were offered and have them return their hit to its sender.
I grab the pants Luna gave me, slipping them on, and quietly open the bathroom door.
I peek my head out; silence fills Luna’s apartment.
I walk out to the living room, only to stop in my tracks as I see Luna asleep on the couch.
She looks so peaceful. Her chest rises and falls evenly, indicating she’s in a deep sleep.
I walk over to Luna, scooping her in my arms, gently walking her to her room, careful not to disturb her. She looks ethereal in the soft glow of her bedroom lights; her face is smooth and lightly freckled, and she has a light about her that only I can see.
She’s golden, just like an angel.
I place her on her bed, pulling her covers over her, and place a delicate kiss on her forehead. “Sweet dreams, angel.”
Her cat Binx climbs onto her bed, curling beside her and nuzzling down.
I fight the urge to lie down next to them.
I want nothing more than to cuddle up next to her, but I know she took her sleeping pill.
If she found me in her bed in the morning, she would think the worst, and that would jeopardize my chances with her.
Instead, I head to the couch to review the footage of her apartment.
I fall back onto her couch, pulling out my phone, and opening the app I use to watch her cameras.
I sift through the recorded live footage, selecting the video files around 10 p.m. I watch intently over the next few hours until I finally see movement.
I watch the fucker enter through her bedroom window beside the fire escape.
They scaled the side of the building to enter through the window next to the one with the safety bar.
They’re dressed in all black, tall, and have the build of an average six-foot man.
A balaclava hides his face, and he’s wearing gloves, careful not to touch anything as he slowly makes his way through her apartment.
Binx jumps down from the couch when the masked intruder enters the living room, hissing at him as he runs to hide in her room.
The timestamp shows 2 am; our date just ended, and Luna will be home soon.
I speed up the footage, and a chill runs down my spine as I see the masked intruder never move from where he stands in the hallway.
He never looks through her things; he’s just standing there, waiting.
It makes my blood run cold. He’s patient, and that’s dangerous.
The timestamp reads 2:32 am, and the intruder finally moves from the living room to Luna’s bathroom just as she arrives.
I watch as her front door clicks open, and the scene starts to unfold before me.
Luna takes out her phone to read my text, tossing her purse on the kitchen island, and goes to her bedroom.
She stands frozen in the doorway, calling out for Binx and turning her head to find him on her bed.
Luna turns towards the bathroom, and a gloved hand comes into view, but she reacts faster, locking herself in her bedroom.
A loud bang on her bedroom door rips the first scream out of her, and my chest aches hearing her so afraid.
I flip my camera angle to the living room view, and fear swirls in my gut.
The man holds a knife in his hand, banging on her bedroom door, trying to get in, until he hears her talking to me on the phone.
He quickly backs away, fleeing Luna’s apartment through the front door. I switch to the bedroom camera.
“Dante?” Luna whispers into her phone as she makes her way to the closet.
Hearing her panic in her voice makes me want to go to her room and check on her, but I know she’s safe now.
He won’t come back tonight, it’s too risky with the cops in the area, and he knows she called someone to help her, which I don’t think he was expecting.
He’s been watching her for a while, then, and if he works for any one of those bastards I do jobs for, he’ll be back. He has to finish the job to get paid.
The thought makes me sick, so I exit the app and order more cameras for myself, plus one for her to install to give her peace of mind. Tomorrow, I’ll take her to the hardware store and make sure she gets window bars for every window.
I lay my phone on my chest and stare up at the ceiling until my eyes grow heavy, surrounded by her scent. Everything about Luna is sweet, and her scent’s no different—a musky vanilla wrapped in a bed of silky caramel.
Maybe I’ll have better dreams for once.
Red.
Everything’s red.
There’s so much red.
I turn the corner of my childhood home to find red everywhere. It’s splattered on the walls. It flooded the floor. My shoes are sticky, and the air smells of iron and decay.
“Mom?”
“Dante?”
I jolt awake, my hand flying out to grab whoever’s touching me.
My eyes focus, and Luna’s face comes into view; her expression is one of shock.
I drop her arm immediately. “Shit. I’m sorry.
I wasn’t having the best dream.” I move, sitting up, running my hand over my face to wipe the sleep from my eyes.
“No, that’s my fault. I shouldn’t have touched you without permission. You were whining in your sleep, so I figured you were having a bad dream.” Luna says with an apologetic smile, making me want to scoop her onto my lap and tell her she can touch me anyway she damn well pleases.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I say, as Luna sits next to me. I notice she isn’t in the robe I put her to bed in; instead, she's wearing baby pink shorts and a matching tank top. I avert my eyes, trying not to notice her hardened nipples and failing.
“No. Thank you for taking me to my bedroom, though. That was kind of you.” Luna smiles. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”
I nod. “Coffee. Please and thank you.”
Luna gets up, and I can’t help but watch as she heads to her kitchen.
The set she’s wearing has a little white lace trim along the shorts' hem. Her outfit says French maid in my mind, and I have to adjust myself on the couch, watching her bounce around in it. Last night, seeing her in the blue dress she was wearing, she looked drop-dead gorgeous, but seeing her like this makes my chest ache. Luna’s a natural beauty; seeing her at home in the morning light makes her look angelic —my own personal angel here on earth.
I get up from the couch once I’m under control, meeting her at the kitchen island.
Luna smiles, handing me a steaming cup of black coffee.
“I didn’t add anything to it. Figured you could do that yourself.
Milk’s in the fridge, and sugar’s here.” She points to the prepackaged sugar packets she has on the counter.
“Thank you,” I say, picking up two sugar packets, ripping them open, and dumping them into my cup.
“I don’t have many options for breakfast, but I can make you some egg bites if you’re hungry.” Luna leans up against her counter, sipping on her Earl Grey tea that I know she has every morning. She’s surprisingly relaxed for someone whose house has just been broken into.