Page 45 of Cat and Mouse

I pay the delivery guy, barely registering his face, and sit down on the couch with the box in my lap. I stare at the pizza for a minute, not really tasting the first bite, then the second. It's mechanical, like I'm on autopilot, chewing without thinking. The flavors don't even register. It's just… nothing.

It's like I'm in some kind of trance, going through the motions of being a human but not really feeling anything.

God, what the hell is happening to me?

I finish the slice, wipe my hands on a napkin, and lean back against the cushions. I'm exhausted. My body feels heavy,like I'm carrying around the weight of everything that just happened, and my mind's racing, trying to make sense of it all.

Leo's face flashes in my mind, the way he looked at me right before he kissed me, like he was fighting something inside himself. Like he wanted to devour me and run at the same time.

Fuck.

I get up, pacing the room, my hands running through my hair, tugging at the ends. What if I never see him again? What if this was the last time? He walked out of here like he was never coming back, like he could just cut me out of his life that easily.

But the thing is, I don't want him to go.

I groan, pressing my palms to my eyes. What the hell am I thinking? Wanting a man like that, a man who's destroyed more lives than I can even comprehend. A man who could easily destroy mine.

I need sleep. Maybe when I wake up, things will make sense. Maybe I'll be able to process everything that happened without feeling like my head's going to explode.

I drag myself to bed, stripping down to my underwear and sliding under the covers. The sheets feel cool against my skin, but they're not comforting. They don't hold the warmth of his touch. And I hate that I notice that.

I lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, trying to block out the images running through my head. His hands on my body, his mouth against mine, the way he growled my name when he—

Stop it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the thoughts away.

But no matter what I do, they come back. His voice, low and rough in my ear, telling me I was driving him insane. The way his fingers slid inside me, the way I came apart under his touch like I'd been waiting my whole life for it.

I turn over, burying my face in the pillow, trying to push it all away.

But it's no use.

He's under my skin now in a way I can't shake. And I hate it.

Because I know that no matter what happens, no matter how much I try to tell myself it's over, this thing between us isn't finished.

Not even close.

I wake up the next morning, the events of last night crashing over me like a wave. Leo. His hands, his mouth, his warnings: "Stay out of my business." How am I supposed to stay out when I'm already in too deep?

I shake the thought out of my head and get dressed. Black pants, white blouse. Normal. I try to act like today is just a regular day. I'm on autopilot as I shove my gun into my bag, something I've been doing ever since things started getting murky. And they've been murky for a while now.

When I walk into the precinct, Harris is waiting at my desk. Shit.

"Hey," he says, standing up straight, hands in his pockets, trying to look casual but failing miserably. "You got a minute? Maybe grab a coffee at the deli?"

I force a smile, nodding. "Sure. Why not?"

My heart pounds like a drum as we walk down the street. If anyone found out about last night, about what I've been doing, I'd be fired. Worse than that, they'd throw me in a psych ward for being involved with a guy like Leo. A psychopath. He's dangerous, and I'm playing with fire.

The deli is packed, as usual. We find a small table in the corner, and I try to calm my nerves. Just coffee. Just a chat.

Harris stirs his black coffee, then leans in, voice low. "I've been in contact with someone else in the department. Whitmore's been asking around about Miguel. I told him you've been digging into it. Find anything interesting?"

My pulse skips. I've been burying what I know, covering my tracks. And now? I can't tell him the truth.

I shake my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "No. Nothing. Still combing through the same dead ends."

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