Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
HIM
C onnelly’s character hugs the monkey, and the credits roll. I look at Gwen, who stares at my television intently, her face scrunched as she thinks. I’ve enjoyed hearing her opinions on the horror films we’ve been watching, and I’m curious to hear her take on this one.
After letting her ruminate for another minute, I ask, “What do you think?”
“It was … interesting, I suppose.” She leans back into the cushion of the couch. “Argento films are unique. But to be honest, this one’s a bit too sci-fi for me. Personally, I think his best is Suspiria .”
“It’s a really hard one to top,” I say, getting up to rewind the tape.
“Yeah. And the kills are so brutal.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I still get chills when I think about that scene with the glass shards.”
I smirk at her from where I crouch by the television stand, more than intrigued by her admission. “You can take the girl out of horror, but you can’t take the horror out of the girl.”
She gives me a sly smile and comically glances around before bringing her index finger to her lips in a shushing motion. “Don’t tell anyone. But I kind of liked it.”
I think of my knife kissing her neck, blood dripping down her throat in rivulets as I slide into her tight, wet heat, whispering how badly I want to kill her with every thrust. “Me too.” I try to ignore the hardness growing in my pants and attempt to divert the subject. “Wanna watch something else? We could switch to an old comedy or something.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m good.” She rises and heads for the kitchen. “We can stick with horror. I’m gonna make some more popcorn, if that sounds good to you.”
“Go ahead.” I look through the movies from our stack we rented from Epic Flix. “Any preference?”
“How about Candyman ?” she replies, putting the bag into the microwave. “It might surprise you how much that one tugs at the heartstrings.”
My dark desires almost put me in a trance at her innocent suggestion, but I try to channel my thoughts elsewhere as I wait for Creepers to rewind. Gwen still comes over to my place under the guise of ‘wanting to enrich’ my cinema knowledge, even though her oven has been fixed. But I know she enjoys more than just my cooking.
By the end of the night, she’ll be begging for my cock .
It’ll start with the simplest of gestures—a glass of wine, some conversation. Add in subtle touches, running my fingers through her hair, leaning in close when we talk before going in for the kill. Metaphorically, of course.
The microwave beeps, and I hear her open it and shake the bag. I’m about to settle on the couch when loud music thumps from across the hall, so loud that it’s already shaking my walls. Great, cockblocked. All because that fucking druggie is having a party again . I groan and get up to investigate. “Sorry, Gwen. Let me take care of this.”
She pours the popcorn into a large bowl. “Some people are just so damn inconsiderate.”
My smile is strained as I open the door and see college kids gathered in the hallway, drinking and laughing. “Hey, guys,” I say. “Can you turn the music down a bit?”
One of them looks at me and shrugs. “Sorry, man. Not my party.”
But you’re probably using it to get connected with Alex’s drug dealer for your fucking stimulants , I think, the muscle in my jaw ticking with barely concealed rage.
“Yo, Blake,” Alex begins, sliding out from the open door. “Here for the goods? I can hook you up real nice. You look like you need something to mellow you out.”
“I’m fine, thank you very much,” I snap, my patience wearing paper-thin. Drawing in a deep breath, I force my face into an expression of neutrality. “I get it. Parties are meant to be fun. But it’s getting late and people need their rest. Could you at least please turn the music down so everyone can get some sleep? ”
The other guys shift uncomfortably, but Alex just laughs. “Sure, Blake. We’ll keep it down to a dull roar. You don’t need to get your panties in a knot over it.”
I ball my hands into fists, desperate to keep my temper under control. Gwen slips through the door and watches us, her eyes flitting from my hands to my face, her expression unreadable. I can’t blow my cover; Blake is a man of patience, not violence. Alex heads into his apartment and turns down the music with a remote, but not until after he’s shot us a smug grin from inside.
As I’m about to speak, there’s a crash from below. Gwen and I exchange looks, her face paling. Without hesitation, she speeds down to the floor below in search of the commotion, leaving me no time to stop her. I swear under my breath as I rush after her, taking two steps at a time.
When I reach the floor below, I find Gwen standing in front of her apartment door—which has been ripped off its hinges and left toppled in the middle of the hall. She’s trembling, her eyes locked on something inside her apartment.
I hurry to her side. “What happened?” I ask quietly, trying to keep my voice calm.
She doesn’t answer, instead pointing to her lit apartment without a word. I tense up, ready to fight if necessary, and step inside. Someone has slashed her wallpaper and vandalized it with graffiti. The perpetrator showed no mercy towards her belongings, throwing many of them on the floor and even breaking some. “ Stay there,” I order, glimpsing Gwen over my shoulder before going further in.
I step around a broken toaster and a busted CD case to examine the wall. There’s a crudely scrawled threat written in red paint :
I WARNED YOU, BITCH
I clench my jaw as Gwen enters the apartment.Whoever did this was sloppy. And stupid.
Because threatening my Little Finch will have dire fucking consequences.
Before I can come up with just how I’m going to torture the stupid fuck who did this, Gwen sinks to the floor and begins sobbing uncontrollably, like a torrent of emotions bursting from a dam all at once. I kneel beside her, wrapping my arms around her, a gesture I hope makes her feel safe. My rage boils, barely contained. I hate seeing her this way. It’s hypocritical, I admit, but no one fucks with my Little Finch but me .
“It’ll be alright,” I say, leading her over to the couch. “Tell me what happened. Tell me everything you know.”
She stares at me, her already bloodshot eyes adding to my anger at the situation. “H-he ripped the door from the hinges because …”
“Please, Mia,” I say, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Slow down. Explain.”
Seeing her still pale face makes me want nothing more than to strangle the dumb fuck who did this. “Someone has been stalking me, breaking into my apartment, and moving my things. Last time, he destroyed some of my stuff and left a threatening note attached to a rose. Before that, he attacked me outside of the building after I got home from work.”
I lift my brow, doing my damnedest not to grind my teeth to dust. “Attacked you? With what? What did he look like?”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. “He attacked me with a hunting knife. And I couldn’t see his face because he wore a weird-looking mask.” She swallows. “D-do you think it’s the same person responsible for the recent murders around here?!”
A weird-looking mask? Did someone fancy themselves a stalker serial killer copycat? “I don’t know,” I begin, shaking my head. “But Christ, Mia. Why didn’t you tell anyone? Did you call the police?” I want to avoid law enforcement snooping around here, but any normal person would question the lack of a report in this type of situation.
She stiffens a bit. “I haven’t gotten a hold of them because … I have unpleasant experiences with the law.”
I act skeptical, tilting my head in mock confusion, but don’t prod openly. I know she doesn’t want the blue shirts involved because of her family history. Because of Cameron Cirillo. And because of all the times she was dragged into stations and interrogated, the people around her ‘mysteriously’ croaking.
I may have had something to do with a few of them. Oops .
“But,” I weakly protest, “we should really call them. Let them know what’s going?—”
“No!” she shouts. She takes a deep breath and composes herself. “We should take care of the mess. I’ll make a report in the morning.”
She’s pleading with me, so I relent. “Fine,” I say, heaving a sigh. “I’ll help clean things up after contacting Nancy. We can at least have her get the door fixed and the locks changed.”
“I recently had the locks changed.” She crosses her arms. “Lot of fucking good that did.”
Selfishly, I’m thankful that I haven’t bothered to make a copy of her key. “Here, let me call her and explain what’s going on,” I say, placing a comforting hand on her knee. “We’ll get this all sorted out. I promise.”
Using her phone, I quickly dial Nancy’s number. She answers on the fourth ring, her voice groggy from interrupted sleep. I explain the situation, and she confirms she will put in an emergency request to have things repaired, including another lock change. After I hang up, I look over at Gwen, who seems far away.
I focus on cleaning up the place as best as I can; I need something to channel my rage into. Some asshole has been fucking around in my territory—that’s strike one. The same asshole who decided that stalking my Little Finch and causing her distress was a good idea.
Whoever they are, they will pay . With interest.
I’ll make sure of that.