I
STORM
The gloomy sky stared back at me as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Dark clouds gave me a sense of comfort. Each time a flash of lightning struck, it was as if a wave of calmness washed over me. Unexplainable, yet peaceful.
The city seemed so small beneath me. It was the highest floor of the skyscraper, my very first time seeing just how pretty the city looked from this view. No wonder this was their way of welcoming me into the building.
Suddenly, the door opened, and I was quick to turn around.
A middle-aged man stood before me, in a suit that cost more than my monthly rent. He briefly glanced at his wristwatch before taking a few steps toward me.
“I apologize to have kept you waiting, Professor Peyton.’’
Kyle Morrison extended his hand for me to shake, and I gave him a light squeeze. It was our first time meeting in person, and the moment he stepped into the conference room, my anxiety vanished. It was probably because of the warmth in his smile as he greeted me.
I’d heard of him a while ago. He was often on television, a retired FBI agent who still helped catch serial killers from time to time. His record was stupidly impressive – with over ninety-seven percent of cases closed and killers sent behind bars.
I smile. “No need to apologize, sir. But let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”
Without waiting, I took a seat across from him, placing my palm on the wooden table and tapping with my index finger.
“I’m still uncertain why you’ve asked to see me.’’
He cleared his throat and pulled out a thick file. It was pitch black with the title being in bold, white color. My eyes widened at that, and I glanced between him and the files a few times, before narrowing my eyes in confusion.
“My emails were vague for a reason.’’ He sighed. “I’ll be frank; you’re one of the best criminology professors in our country and we need your help.’’
“My help?”
“Yes. I’ve personally looked through your record, and I’m impressed, to say the least. Your teachings on serial killers are amazing, as well as the unfortunate experience you’ve had to endure.’’
“That’s odd.’’ I tilted my head to the side. “I teach at a private university to pass the time. That information shouldn’t be easily accessible.’’
A guilty look flashed behind his eyes, but he masked it rather quickly. He cleared his throat and pushed the files toward me.
“The Terror of the Night is back.’’
A single sentence managed to freeze the blood in my veins.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.
My mind immediately wandered off, heart racing in my chest. A wave of chills spread down my body, and I found myself struggling to breathe. Each breath was like a knife repeatedly being stabbed in the pit of my stomach, a pain I hadn’t felt in years. One of my biggest fears was Micah getting arrested again.
I could see Kyle’s lips moving, but no sound came out. As the room started spinning, I was desperately clutching onto the last bits of sanity I had left.
It felt almost unreal. Over the past few years, I searched for him. Hell, I might as well have flipped the entire world upside down and nothing. He never had an MO in which he could’ve been traced, and the cabin where he took me was bought and remodeled by someone else.
There wasn’t a single trace of that man.
Until he appeared after a signing event and left a gift.
That gave me hope and the thought of finally seeing him again made my heart flutter. Yet, soon enough, that happiness turned into fury. He was radio silent, and he hadn’t made an attempt to contact me since. The bastard was laying low, in some ditch probably.
At that point, I started wondering if he was even alive.
And if he was, I was determined to track him down and get back at him for everything that he did.
My obsession ran deep, and my mind was filled with him, every waking moment of the day. Because I couldn’t find a single thing about his whereabouts, I was slowly becoming more and more obsessed with him. I dreamed of him every single night. Sometimes, it was just flashbacks, and other times it was my delusion of what would happen once we were brought back together.