56. Cain
Cain
It was too easy to break one’s mind—a dark, practiced habit I wore like a second skin.
I stood in the suffocating shadows at the top of her loft staircase. Below me, the apartment was bathed in the faint glow of the television.
I had been inside for twenty minutes. I watched from the dark as she bolted the doors and yanked the curtains shut like a terrified prey animal, her movements frantic and useless.
It was a delicious, dark irony—watching her meticulously seal every exit, unknowingly locking herself into a cage with the very predator she was trying to keep out.
She had turned her sanctuary into my playground, and she had done all the hard work for me.
But the highlight of my evening was hearing the low, desperate rumble of my brother’s voice echoing from the phone speaker.
Julian sounded so fiercely protective. So incredibly terrified of losing her again.
A dark, wicked smile stretched across my face as I flipped the apartment’s main switchboard located on the loft wall.
Click.
The apartment plunged into complete darkness.
I closed my eyes, letting her sharp, terrified gasp wash over me like a drug.
I opened my eyes, my night vision perfectly adjusting to the blacked-out apartment. I could see her perfectly. She was blindly feeling her way towards the kitchen, her breathing fast and ragged.
I took a step down the wooden stairs, shifting my weight deliberately.
Creak.
She froze instantly.
I took another step. Creak. I wanted her to feel it.
I wanted the cold, heavy weight of my presence to seep into her bones and overwrite whatever false comfort Julian had just given her.
I descended the stairs slowly, taking my time until I reached the final landing.
I stopped. I was standing less than a metre away from her.
I could hear the frantic hammering of her heart. I could smell the sharp tang of her fear mixing with the sweet scent of her skin.
I stood perfectly still, watching the confusion and the deep flush of embarrassment wash over her face as she frantically scanned the empty kitchen. I listened with dark amusement as she lied to my brother, dismissing her own survival instincts just to prove she wasn’t crazy.
So fragile, I thought, watching her finally hang up the phone exhausted.
She dragged herself into the bathroom, the sound of the shower turning on a few moments later, echoing through the apartment.
I stepped out of the shadows, walking silently into her bedroom. She had laid out a fresh set of clothes on the edge of the mattress—an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties.
My eyes locked onto the lace. I reached out, my fingers brushing the soft fabric before I picked them up.
I brought them up to my face, inhaling deeply.
She smelled like ruin and something intoxicatingly her own.
I folded the fabric meticulously and slipped it into the inside pocket of my dark coat. A souvenir for the night.
I moved silently to the bathroom door. It was left open just enough to let the steam escape.
The room was heavy with hot mist. Through the narrow gap in the doorway, I had a perfect, unobstructed view of the large vanity mirror. The glass was clouded with condensation, but the reflection of the glass shower stall behind it was unmistakable.
I stood in the concealed hallway, my hands shoved into my pockets, perfectly still as I watched her silhouette move under the water.
The blurred curve of her ass, the heavy, wet weight of her dark hair plastered to her back.
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. She was a masterpiece.
A perfect, identical replica of the girl who had mentally ruined us both.
I finally pulled myself away from the door, my control hanging by a razor-thin thread. I walked over to her nightstand, where a tall, reusable water bottle sat waiting for her.
I pulled a small, glass vial from my pocket. It was a heavy, tasteless sedative. Just enough to ensure she wouldn’t wake up until I wanted her to.
I unscrewed the cap of the water bottle, letting three clear drops fall perfectly into the water. They diluted instantly. I screwed the cap back on, perfectly placing it back how she left it.
I backed into the darkest corner of her bedroom, blending seamlessly into the shadows and mess, waiting for her to step out of the shower.
The sound of the water abruptly shutting off echoed through the quiet apartment.
A moment later, the bathroom door creaked open, releasing a thick cloud of a sweet scented steam into the cooler air of the hallway.
Sage stepped out, wrapped tightly in a white towel, her dark hair plastered wetly to her collarbones.
She looked tired and ready for bed. The paranoid, frantic energy from the kitchen had drained out of her, replaced by a deep, bone-weary fatigue that made her sway slightly on her feet.
She walked over to the edge of the mattress, dropping her towel and reaching blindly for the clothes she had laid out.
She pulled the oversized t-shirt over her head, the hem falling to her mid-thigh. Then, her hand patted the duvet. She frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion as she swept her hand over the blankets again, searching for the black lace panties currently sitting hostage inside my coat pocket.
I watched her through the dark, the primal, predatory thrill of the psychological warfare burning cold and bright in my chest.
“I swear I grabbed them,” she mumbled to herself, her voice thick and gravelly with sleep. She rubbed her eyes aggressively, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh. “Whatever. I’m losing my mind.”
It was a beautiful thing to witness. She was so desperate for reality to make sense that she was actively gas-lighting herself into ignoring the blatant evidence of my presence.
She abandoned the search and crawled under the thick duvet. She reached out, her small fingers wrapping around the reusable water bottle on her nightstand.
My jaw clenched in quiet, dark anticipation.
She unscrewed the cap and took three long swallows, oblivious to the fast acting sedative slipping past her lips. She set the bottle back down, turning off the small bedside lamp and plunging the room into the dim, ambient light that was filtering through the window blinds from the street.
It took less than ten minutes.
I watched her chest rise and fall as the drug hit her bloodstream with devastating efficiency. The restless tossing and turning stopped. Her muscles went slack and her breathing slowed to a deep, perfectly timed cadence.
She wasn’t just asleep. She was helplessly paralysed in a chemically induced void.
I stepped out of the shadows.
My footsteps made no sound against the hardwood floor. I crossed the room with the slow, deliberate grace of a predator that had already caught its prey, stopping right at the edge of her bed.
The chaos of her messy apartment, the erratic human emotions—all of it faded away when she was perfectly still. I sat on the very edge of her mattress, the springs groaning softly under my unnatural weight, but she didn’t flinch.
I reached out, my large, cold hand hovering over her face. My fingers trembled slightly—a sickening, intoxicating reaction to decades of repressed obsession.
I gently caressed her face. Her skin was incredibly soft, radiating a mortal heat that I had been starved of since the Manor. I trailed the back of my knuckles slowly down the delicate curve of her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, memorising the perfect symmetry of her face.
Hello, June, I thought, a venomous, possessive smile curving my lips.
Julian had spent the last month trying to protect her from our shared past. He had written her letters.
He had made her promises. But he had failed.
I was the one sitting on her bed. I was the one touching her skin.
I could break her delicate little neck right now, and my twin wouldn’t even know until he arrived to find a rotting corpse.
But death was too quick. Too merciful. Too boring.
I leaned down, my face hovering mere inches from hers. Closing my eyes as the intense rush of possession flooded my veins. I wasn’t going to kill her. Not tonight. I was going to tear down her sanity piece by piece, until the only thing she knew to fear was me.
Slowly, I moved, the mattress barely dipping under the weight of a ghost as I slipped under the covers with her.
The heat of her body was a siren song as I pressed myself against her back.
I leaned into the curve of her neck, my lips brushing the skin where her pulse hammered and whispered into her ear, “Hello, little birdy.”
Tonight I was going to show her exactly how much I’d missed her