Page 36 of Fallen Omega

Like now.

Whoever’s following me is reckless. As his carelessness grows, it blooms into confidence and the bolder he gets.

Because he thinks I haven’t noticed his presence.

Male. Not female.

Females don’t underestimate in the same way.

Maybe it’s their size, I don’t know. Don’t care. They’re more cautious because they have to be.

I continue to hunt the hunter. Draw him out.

The buildings on the street, past the small apartment complex where the girl lives, cast black shadows in the yellow spotlights of streetlamps. It would be easy to disappear into that ink, slide around a building’s side, or down an alley, but I don’t want to lose them. Not yet.

There’s a labyrinth of streets, houses, stores, offices, and apartments coming up. There in the jumble are restaurants and empty places. More people, a better chance to see my hunter, slip the tether I’m allowing to tie us together, and either turn the tables or disappear.

I need to get in her place. I want to get my hands on my follower, but out here, doing that’s too dangerous. It will garner attention, even this late at night.

Not like I care about attention. Not like I give a fuck about the law.

But when I put hands on this would-be hunter, I want to be able to do it unseen. So I can extract information.

I picked him up about ten minutes after leaving Pandora’s which means someone was either watching the place, or looking for me.

Anyone who looks for me and wants to live knows not to follow. Approach without an attempt at subterfuge.

I move at a good pace, slowing at restaurants, pausing at menus to look in the wavey reflection.

At the third place, I think I see him. Average height, jeans. Black hoodie, baseball cap. I move on. Fifth place confirms it.

Same guy.

I hate amateurs.

At least I know it isn’t Ghost. Though it would take me longer to pinpoint him.

I correct my thoughts. Clearing out all the noise that’s in my head.

Tonight, it’s not Ghost physically, but it could be someone he sent.

I mark that down silently. Though Ghost would hopefully send someone with more skill.

Fucking Ghost. Nemesis, betrayer. Someone I don’t underoroverestimate.

Dante should have let me kill him when I had the chance.

But he has kernels of real humanity in him, hidden deep. And Ghost had been Dante’s partner and close friend. Our partner. Not my close friend. I never trusted him. So…Ghost lives.

I pretend to peruse the latest menu once more. My stalker remains, hanging back, cap low, standing just at the curb.

I go inside.

The looks I get as I walk are things I’m used to.

People see the scars. My height. The tattoos on my neck. If they’re brave or stupid, they see the flatness of my stare, the fact that I’m devoid of warmth, a heart.

Emotion was beaten out of me as a child.

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