Chapter 13
ASHER
A hurricane wrapped in flesh.
It’s the only way to describe the woman I’m staring at from the corner of her room while she finally rests.
Maeve lies on her side, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, her breathing soft and even.
Breaking in was easy. Everything about Maeve is becoming easy. Did she think her precious new security cameras would deter me? They were little more than a speed bump. A few keystrokes, and the feed flickered once, then froze, looping seamlessly as though nothing had changed.
But I had seen her, standing at the sink with trembling hands, scrubbing and scrubbing at the invisible stain only she could see. Her face was a mask of desperation, tears carving silent paths down her cheeks.
Her home reflects her: stripped bare, ready to vanish at any moment. No photos, no mementos, just emptiness disguised as simplicity.
She’s also picked up after herself. Such a good girl. She’s learning. Remembering.
I flick the lighter in my hand, the small flame dancing in front of my face. Such a fragile thing, its life dependent on the fuel inside a small metal prison. Once that fuel runs out, there’s no more flame. No more life.
I slam the lid shut and return my focus to my woman.
What would she do if she woke and found me here? Caleb’s face she would recognise, but she’s yet to truly embrace what she knows to be truth. That she’s more like me than she is him.
For the first time in years, my urge to destroy someone is warring with my urge to possess someone.
Ignoring her isn’t an option.
Showing her who she really is . . . now that’s tantalising.
Still, her innocence stretches over her like that threadbare T-shirt—worn, fragile, waiting to be torn at the seams.
With another flick of the lighter, I step closer, the distance between us narrowing.
A half-empty mug of what looks like tea sits on her nightstand. I pick it up and lift it to my nose, inhaling deeply. Earl Grey, a hint of honey. One day, she’ll have my name on her tongue instead.
With a groan, I adjust myself. There’s plenty of time for that.
I place the mug back down, and reach out, skimming my fingers over her fragile neck, tracing the line where her pulse beats steadily beneath her pale skin. It’s almost luminescent in the dim light.
Beautiful. Raw.
Like clay waiting to be moulded into something greater.
Into something mine.
Heat spreads over my body. Is this . . . pride?
Her first kill.
Her hands had trembled, but they’d been steady enough to plunge the letter opener into Dennis’s throat. That hesitation, that flicker of fear, it will fade in time.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s stepped into my world. Blood on her hands. Death in her eyes. The girl she was is gone. I’ll make sure of it.
She doesn’t need to worry about getting caught. I won’t let that happen.
After all, if there’s no body to be found, no crime has been committed.
I brush a strand of Maeve’s dark hair from her forehead. She stirs, which means it’s my cue to leave.
But first, I need to set my plan into motion. Tapping my chin, I grin and pick up her phone from the nightstand.
Maeve won’t trust me. Not yet. But Caleb? She’ll let him in, even though she suspects he’s the menace stalking through the night.
She’ll learn he’s the hero in this story, after all. And heroes are so easy to manipulate.
I send the text from her phone, the perfect trap now set in motion. Caleb will come running. He always has, always will.
The chaos it will unleash is worth the effort.
Two pawns, one game, and me pulling the strings.
I place a parting kiss to Maeve’s forehead, my lips lingering against her soft skin. “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Little Shadow.”