Chapter 31
Her
The man from that night keeps filling my thoughts. I lie in my bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every second in my head.
How can the same man who terrifies me also ignite that strange spark of desire? I feel foolish and weak for letting my thoughts wander there, yet I cannot seem to stop them.
I force myself to get up and walk straight to the shower, hoping the water will wash away some of the confusion. I turn it on and step under the spray, closing my eyes as the warm water runs over my body.
My mind drifts back again to that night in the club bathroom. I keep thinking about how he touched me, where his fingers had been, how he had slid them inside me so slowly at first and then faster, curling them just right. The memory makes my breath catch. I relive every second of it.
His voice was so low and filthy when he called me names, yet it sent heat straight to my core. Every time a droplet of water hits my nipples, a sharp sensation shoots down to my pussy, making me clench.
I glide my hand down my stomach, remembering exactly how he had rubbed my clit and pushed his fingers deeper. My fingers brush over my folds and I feel myself getting wet again just from the memory.
I am about to slide a finger inside when my phone rings loudly from the counter. The sharp sound snaps me out of the moment. I turn the water off quickly, feeling stupid.
What am I doing? How can I touch myself while thinking about a man who wanted to kill me? I feel dirty, like my body is betraying me in the worst way possible.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
I check the phone and see it is just my alarm reminding me it is almost time for work. I dry myself quickly and get dressed in a simple blouse and pants.
I cannot believe I was reliving that moment so intensely. He is dangerous. He is a monster. Yet my body keeps reacting to him like it wants more. The thought makes me feel weak and pathetic.
I leave for the office, scanning the street the entire way, looking for any sign of him. I see nothing unusual, but the feeling of being watched never really leaves me.
When I reach office and settle in my desk, Hazel comes over with few files. "Good morning, Iris. Here are today’s assignments. Take your time with them."
I thank her and start scanning through the files. One of them catches my attention immediately.
As I read the details, I realize a body has been found in the same club I was at this weekend. It was discovered in one of the bathroom stalls.
The victim’s right hand had been cut off completely, and the hand was nowhere near the scene. His entire face was stuffed with cocaine, and there were other packs of cocaine found on him, which clearly indicates he was selling them in the club.
The victim is named Justin Mills. He is a 28-year-old man. The picture attached shows the guy who tried to grope my ass that night. And now his hand is missing. The picture also has a small iris flower placed beside the body.
I feel a strange smile forming on my lips as I look at the flower. He did this for me. He removed the man who touched me without permission.
But then I realize what is happening to me. I am smiling at a murder. I am feeling grateful to the same man who stalks me and terrifies me. What is wrong with me?
I think about how he has always been protecting me in his own twisted way. He has always been there whenever someone tried to do something to me.
The drunk guy in the alley, Mike at the office, and now Justin at the club. He removes them one by one. The realization hits me hard, and a warmth spreads through my chest that I do not want to feel.
I take the file and go to Hazel’s desk. "Hazel, can I show you something?"
Hazel looks up. "What is it, Iris?"
I place the file in front of her and point to the iris flower in the photo. "Look at this flower beside the body. I’ve seen the same flower in other cases I worked on. The drunk guy who was murdered around my neighbourhood had one too."
Hazel studies the photo carefully. "You’re right. It does look like a pattern. The same flower appearing at different crime scenes. That cannot be a coincidence."
I explain further, "I think someone is leaving these flowers deliberately..." but leave out the part where he places these for me.
Hazel nods slowly. “This is bigger than we thought, Iris. We should probably include it in the article. Maybe it’ll help the police connect the cases.”
I come back to my desk and start writing the article right away. I keep thinking about what he might have done to Justin just because he touched me. He cut off his hand. The same hand that grabbed my ass.
The thought should scare me, but instead it sends a strange thrill through me. I feel protected in a way I have never felt before.
My reasoning has changed because of that night in the bathroom. I should stay strategic and logical. I cannot let emotions cloud my judgment. He is still dangerous. He is still the man who stalks me. I cannot start seeing him as my protector.
My shift ends that day, and as I am just about to shut down my computer, a small shadow falls across my desk. I look up, expecting Hazel or one of the colleague, but instead I see a familiar hand holding a small bakery box tied with a thin string.
"Surprise."
I blink, then look up properly. Al is standing there, smiling like he has been waiting to see my reaction.
"For you." He says, holding the box out. "Open it."
I take it from him and untie the string slowly. The moment I lift the lid, the smell hits me. Warm, buttery, sweet. My face softens before I can stop it.
"Scones." I say, looking up at him. "My favorite."
"I know." He says casually, like it is nothing. "Thought you might need a pick-me-up after a long day."
A small, genuine smile spreads across my lips. It feels nice. "Al, you didn’t have to. These look amazing."
He shrugs lightly. "I was nearby anyway. Figured I’d check if you were still here." He nods toward the door. "Come on. I’ll drop you home."
"You don’t have to…"
"I know." He interrupts gently. "I want to."
I study his face for a second. He looks relaxed, easy, like he always does. No pressure. No expectation. Just Al being Al.
"…Okay." I say softly.
A few minutes later we’re sitting in his car. The door closes with a soft thud, shutting out the outside noise. The quiet inside feels comforting after a full day of voices and typing and ringing phones.
I pull one of the scones out of the box and take a bite.
I pause, surprised. “Okay… I wasn’t expecting these to be this good.”
"Told you." He says, starting the engine. "Bakery near my studio. Dangerous place. I go in for one thing and come out with ten."
I take another bite, smiling faintly. "Thank you."
"No problem." He glances at me as he pulls onto the road. "So. How was your day?"
"It was…" I pause, searching for the right word. "Busy."
"Busy good or busy bad?"
"Busy thinking." I say quietly.
He nods like he understands that answer. "You look tired."
"I didn’t sleep well."
"Nightmares?" He asks gently.
I hesitate. "Not exactly."
He doesn’t push. Just nods once and keeps driving.
We sit in comfortable silence for a minute. Streetlights pass across his face one by one. I take another bite of the scone, letting the warmth of it settle in my chest.
Then he says, casually, "Do you remember Justin?"
My stomach drops instantly. My fingers pause around the scone. For a second I see the file photo again. The stall. The blood. The missing hand. The iris flower.
I force my voice to stay steady. "Yes. I remember him. Why?"
Al exhales through his nose. "He died that night."
My chest tightens.
"They found him in the bathroom." He continues. "He was dealing. Supplying stuff to people there. Now everyone’s nervous the police might start asking questions."
I nod slowly, keeping my expression neutral. "I heard about it."
He glances at me. "You did?"
"I wrote about it actually." I say. "For the paper."
He looks surprised. "Seriously?"
"Mhm."
"Huh." He shakes his head slightly. "Weird situation. Probably some gang thing. Dealers don’t usually last long when they step on the wrong toes."
I don’t answer. My mind is racing too fast. Does he know? Did he notice something? Does he suspect anything?
I keep my gaze on the window so he can’t see my expression too clearly.
After a few seconds, I speak quietly. "Al… there’s something I didn’t tell you about that night."
He glances at me again, more alert now. "Yeah?"
I swallow. "Justin tried to grope me."
"What?" He says sharply, turning toward me.
My heart jumps at his tone.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" He asks. Not yelling. But tense. "Ree, why didn’t you say anything?"
"I didn’t want to cause a scene." I say quickly. "Or ruin anything for you."
"Ruin what?"
"Your friendship." I say. "I didn’t want drama."
He lets out a short scoff. "Friendship? He’s not my friend." His jaw tightens. "He’s just some dealer I know through people. That’s it."
I stay quiet.
"You should’ve told me." He adds, voice lower now but still tight. "I would’ve handled it right there."
"I didn’t want trouble." I whisper.
His grip tightens on the steering wheel. "He touched you."
The way he says it makes my chest warm slightly.
"I’m sorry," I murmur.
"Don’t apologize." He says immediately. He exhales slowly, trying to calm himself. "Just… next time, tell me. Okay?"
I nod. A small silence passes. Then I add quietly, "Something else happened too. A few days ago."
His eyes flick toward me again. "What?"
"A drunk guy near my place." I say. "He grabbed me. Tried to… you know."
Al’s hands tighten again.
"Ree…"
"I’m fine." I say quickly. "I got away."
"That’s not the point." He says. His voice is controlled, but I can hear the anger sitting under it. "Why didn’t you call me?"
"I didn’t want to bother you." I admit.
He shakes his head slowly. "That’s what I’m here for."
I look down at my hands.
A few minutes pass by, and then he adds, "We should install cameras at your place."
"That sounds good." I say. "But…"
"But what?" He asks.
"Money’s a little tight right now. I’ll save and do it next month."
"No." He says immediately. "Next month’s too late."
I blink. "Al…"
"You should do it now." He says. "I’ll help."
"I don’t want your money."
"You can pay me back later."
"I don’t like owing people."
"You wouldn’t owe me." He says. "You’d be safe. That’s what matters."
I hesitate.
He glances at me. "Let me help, Ree."
Something in his tone softens my resistance.
"…Okay," I say finally. "Thanks."
He nods once, satisfied, and starts driving again.
Soon we reach my flat building. He pulls over and turns off the engine, then looks at me.
"From now on." He says, "I’m taking you home more often."
"You don’t have to do that." I say gently. "I’m okay."
“Yes.” He says dryly. “Your definition of okay is truly inspiring.”
I smile faintly. "You’re very stubborn."
"Only when it matters."
I shake my head lightly. "Go home and sculpt another masterpiece. You’ve been neglecting your art because of me."
He snorts softly. "It’s late."
"That’s never stopped you before."
He smiles. "True."
I open the door and step out. The night air feels cool against my skin.
"Good night, Ree." He says.
"Good night, Al."
"Call me if you need anything."
"I will."
He waits until I reach the building entrance before driving off. I stand there a moment, watching his car until it disappears down the street. A warm feeling settles in my chest knowing I have friends who care about me this much. Friends who would protect me if they could.