Page 160 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

“Whatever,” I say, popping another spicy pumpkin ravioli in my mouth. “If the sex is good, then I’m happy for you.”

“Sex is good for a positive mind, and a positive mind brings only goodness,” I add as an afterthought.

She huffs a laugh. “Exactly.”

The evening progresses, and we move on from dinner to sharing a plate of the restaurant's signature chocolate gateau and coffee. Brittany’s eyes sparkle as she tells me about her latest projects with genuine happiness, and I’m glad we’re not talking about me. I just needed a break from all my issues. The weight of my private problems is momentarily lifted, replaced by the lightness of our friendship.

“I have an early flight back to San Fransico tomorrow,” She calls over the waiter and asks for the check. I grab it and give him my card.

“Next time, babe,” I say, typing my pin into the device he hands me.

Out of nowhere, Rick appears and tells me to sit and wait until he brings the vehicle to the entrance.

“Super vigilant!” Brittney remarks, and I smile at her.

I feel more stressed about my stalker with all the security around me, and I hate the feeling of constantly living in fear.

“I have to—"

I’m interrupted by a deafening explosion erupting outside, shaking the windows and causing panic to ripple through the restaurant. Brittney’s eyes widen in shock, and she instinctively glances toward the source of the disturbance. The distant glow of flames reflects in her eyes as a plume of smoke rises into the night sky.

As the realization sets in, my heart pounds in my chest. Dread creeps into me as I recall the parking lot where Rick left the SUV. A chilling thought lingers in her mind—could that have been the vehicle that just exploded?

Chaos ensues within the restaurant. Diners clamor for the exits, and the once serene ambiance devolves into a scene of disarray.Amidst the panic, the lights flicker, casting erratic shadows across the faces of the bewildered patrons.

“Come on,” I drag her out of the chair, “We need to get out of here,” I shout.

As we attempt to navigate through the sea of people rushing to escape, the restaurant's entrance bursts open. Several masked men, clad in dark clothing, storm in with an air of calculated menace. Their faces obscured, and they moved with swift precision towards us.

“This way,” I grab Brittney’s arm and realize it’s me they’re after.

Terrified gasps echo as the masked intruders disrupt the chaotic exodus. One of them points towards me, and the air around me thickens with a sense of impending danger. I throw Brittney into the crowd for her own safety, taking one last look at my best friend as she looks at me with confusion. I turn toward the kitchen area, hoping there’s some kind of service door.

Once a haven for fine dining, the restaurant transforms into a nightmarish battleground as people scream and scramble to get out.

Panic and confusion seize me as strong hands grab me, pulling me away from the main room. I struggle against these men, unable to comprehend the swift and brutal turn of events. The masked men move with a chilling efficiency, orchestrating the chaos with a dark purpose.

As I’m forcibly led out, the restaurant becomes a surreal backdrop to a nightmare, I hear heavy gunfire, and then my shoulder is pricked, and regardless of the screams and struggles I make, I’m all too familiar with this abduction.

He’s back, and this time, it will be more brutal than the first abduction.

Chapter 41

Jagger’s just been briefedby Rick’s superior over the phone, and we all wait with held breath. The police are here, and this has now become a case for the FBI. Bombs going off in central LA with two people dead and several critically injured aren’t events that get ignored.

“They’re sending a temporary head of security here until they can conform Rick’s whereabouts,” he informs.

All the injured individuals transported to the hospital have been identified, and fortunately, none of them were Rick, Eden, or Brittney. However, this leaves us with the unsettling realization that the two deceased individuals at the scene could potentially be one or two of the three missing.

None of us want to go there. Not yet. Both fear and dread crawl up my spine, and while I’m trying to remain positive, I’m finding it hard as the house is littered with police and FBI agents talking to each one of us. Thankfully, over the last few weeks, Rick’s been updating the feds downtown with some stuff about the stalker, but not everything.

The reality is that the LAPD has its fair share of leaks. Media leaks can be particularly damaging, and the last thing we need is a scandal turning against us and jeopardizing our careers just as we're starting to emerge from the depths of its big slumber.

I glance up from my contemplation, the tension in the room tangible as the four of us sit on the edge of our seats in the dimly lit living room. Anxious silence envelops the space, interrupted only by the occasional deep exhales and restless shifting of our bodies.

Jagger glances nervously at the clock on the wall. The ticking seems to echo the pounding in my heart. Callum clenches and unclenches his fists, unable to sit still, and he hasn’t rolled a fag in hours, probably worried that he’ll miss an important call if he goes outside for a smoke. Haze taps his foot impatiently as he stares blankly into the distance, lost in his thoughts.

As soon as the FBI agent steps into the room, we immediately spring to our feet, our eyes searching for answers.

---