Page 43 of Obsession

I stare at myself in the mirror, just before the steam fogs it up entirely. My body may be damaged, but my eyes are the same vivid shade of violet as ever.

I should maybe get those color-changing contacts. If I’m on the hunt for someone, they’ll remember a girl with eyes like mine.

I text Cain. I bet he’ll be able to get them quicker than I will.

Hey, I know it’s late, hopefully you do the ‘do not disturb’ after a certain hour thing

The response is immediate.

Everything okay?

Guess he doesn’t.

My heart thumps. I probably woke the guy up, and his first question is, am I okay? This isafterhe bought me dinner anda car.

And after he tried to boss you around and showed absolutely no respect for your self-respect or autonomy. NO THANK YOU.

I’m fine, but I wondered if you

I pause mid-text, trying to figure out how to word my question just right. My finger is hovering over the phone when my eyes graze the windowsill in my bedroom. I’m on the second floor near the fire escape. The breeze still flutters the curtains at the window, only now the windowsill isn’t empty.

A sprig of purple irises sits on the ledge.

CHAPTER NINE

Cain

I watchthe little dots on the screen dance, then stop, dance, then stop. I asked her if she’s okay and expected a quick response, probably something snarky like,

Fine, just polishing my guns. You?

All good, haven’t found any strange men lying in wait or abductees behind my shower curtain, how bout you?

I’m fine, you can call off the babysitters now.

I sent her a car, but I sent a small team to watch her, too. If she’s right about the asshole being after her, I don’t want to take any chances.

A minute passes. Two. Three.

No response.

I’m in my bedroom in shorts and a tank after a shower, prepared to do whatever work I can through the night. I’ve got a team ready to be briefed in the morning and people working around the clock already.

I go to text her, then stop. Then again. Finally, I decide the hell with it, and shoot her another text.

Hey. You were typing and now nothing. Everything alright?

No response.

I pick up my phone and call Henri, the head of the team I sent to her apartment. His phone rings and goes to voicemail.

No response.

I pull on shoes and grab a jacket, slipping it on as I leave my room.

“Everything alright?” Joe asks me when I hit the foyer at a jog. I fill him in.

“You think she’s in danger?”

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