24. Hades
Hades
Between the windows at her house and The Crooked Spine, Presley has looked outside eleven times.
I lean against a tree, arms folded across my chest, watching through the front window of The Crooked Spine.
She glances toward the glass again.
Twelve.
My mouth curves.
Two unbearably long days of staying away from her. No using the mask. No popping into the bookstore. No shadow moving between the trees.
It’s been hell.
And it’s also been driving her crazy.
I wanted to know if she'd miss me. Apparently, I have my answer.
My phone feels heavier in my pocket with her number inside. Given freely.
Well, sort of.
I issued the command. She handed it over. I consider that voluntary.
I've taken plenty from Presley without her permission.
Her routine.
Her privacy.
The sight of her standing in her bedroom when she thought she was alone.
The feel of her skin beneath my fingers while she slept.
Things she never offered me.
But today she handed me her phone. Let me put my number into it. Let me call myself so I could have hers.
She gave me access.
I fucking like that more than everything I've already taken.
I pull my phone from my pocket and stare at her name.
Presley.
One touch and I could call her.
Or I could text her right now.
I smirk, thinking of what I might send.
Looking for someone?
I almost laugh.
That would be fun.
Also stupid.
She might figure out Hades is the one watching her.
She doesn't know I’ve been watching her stare out windows for the last two days.
And I'm not ready for her to know.
I slide the phone back into my pocket.
There are other ways to get her attention.
The Halloween store has a section for dogs.
Of course it fucking does.
I stand in front of a wall covered in costumes and sweaters, wondering when exactly my life reached the point where I'm shopping for a dachshund.
A tiny orange sweater catches my attention. Black bats cover it.
I pick it up.
Penny would look ridiculous in it.
Presley will love it.
Into the basket it goes.
Then I make another stop.
A bookstore in a neighboring town has the special edition of the book she recommended. The one about the woman who discovers she's far more interested in being stalked than she wants to admit.
I smirk. Appropriate.
The special edition has sprayed edges, alternate artwork, and enough decorative shit I don't understand to make it cost twice as much as the copy I bought.
I buy it anyway.
The cashier asks if it's a gift.
“Yes.”
“Girlfriend?”
Yes, but she doesn’t know she is.
I stare at her. “Something like that.”
She clears her throat. “I'll just ring that up.”
Smart woman.
Presley's house is dark when I arrive.
She’s still at the bookstore. She gets off in an hour. Plenty of time for what I need to do.
I carry the package onto the porch and crouch beside her front door.
I open the box one last time, double-checking I have everything.
Sweater.
Book.
The fucking note I’ve rewritten three times.
The first sounded like Hades.
The second sounded too much like the man in the mask.
The third does exactly what I want.
I set it on top.
For you.
And something for the girl who keeps trying to protect you.
Enjoy the book.
I leave it unsigned and close the box.
Maybe that's fucked up, but I want to know who she thinks sent it. Hades or the masked man she keeps searching for through windows?
I leave the package beside the door and disappear into the trees.
Then I wait.
Headlights sweep across the driveway as Presley’s car pulls in.
I straighten against the tree.
She climbs out and moves to the passenger side.
When Penny’s paws hit the ground, she immediately starts sniffing everything within reach. Presley gently coaxes her toward the porch, Penny's leash in one hand.
Presley makes it halfway to the porch before she notices the package.
She stops.
So does Penny.
Even from here, I see Presley's entire body stiffen.
My pulse kicks harder.
She looks toward the woods, her gaze searching. It sweeps toward me, but she doesn’t see me.
A thrill rolls through me that she’s looking for me.
Probably the masked version, but he’s still me.
She just doesn’t know that yet.
“Come on, Penny.” Her voice carries through the quiet.
She approaches the box cautiously.
Penny sniffs it.
Presley stares at it for several seconds, then picks it up and carries it inside.
The front door closes.
I move close enough to see through the living-room window.
Presley puts the box on the coffee table. Penny circles her feet, her eyes on the box.
Finally, she opens it... and freezes.
Then she pulls out the sweater.
Even from here, I can see her bright smile.
Fuck.
Something tightens beneath my ribs.
She holds it up for Penny. The dog starts jumping.
I bite back a laugh. “Of course you like it.”
Presley's voice is muffled through the glass.
She puts the sweater on her.
It's too fucking cute.
I hate that I just thought that.
Penny runs around the living room while Presley laughs.
And I realize I would've paid ten times what that stupid sweater cost just to hear that sound.
Then Presley reaches into the box again and pulls out the book.
Everything about her changes.
Her eyes widen. Her fingers trace the cover. Then she hugs it against her chest.
Jesus Christ.
I understand why people buy special editions now.
Her brows furrow as she looks at the note.
She unfolds and reads it, her smile dimming slightly.
Her gaze snaps toward the window.
I straighten.
I can almost see the question forming inside her mind.
She reads the note again, then looks at the book. Her gaze drops to Penny before lifting to the window.
She pulls her phone from her coat pocket.
My pulse kicks as she stares at the screen, wondering if she’s looking at my name.
I reach into my pocket and wrap my fingers around my phone.
Come on, Presley. Ask me.
But my screen remains dark.
Instead, she walks slowly toward the window and stops, looking directly into the woods.
My mouth curves.
She has no idea I'm here.
No idea I'm watching her hold a gift I left on her porch.
No idea that whichever man she thinks sent it—she's right.
And she's wrong.
Because there aren't two of us.
There's only me.
Her stalker.
Her safe place.
And sooner or later, Presley is going to discover they're the same man.
I can't fucking wait to see what she does.