Page 83 of Stalker

“When the truth no longer matters.” I kept walking. Had Peyton not been in her guest house, I wouldn’t have been so open with our conversation.

Successfully reaching the garage door without any further interference from him, I believed I had made it out unscathed. But his voice called out one last thing right before I stepped through the opening.

“He was wrong, you know.” I glanced over my shoulder, trying to figure out what he was talking about, and stopped when I saw the seriousness in my jackass brother’s eyes. “Dad.” He said and my blood raged into an inferno with just the utterance of our father’s existence inside of my home. “You were never weak or forgettable. He was the weak man who couldn’t own up to his mistakes when he got caught with two families.”“It doesn’t matter.” I shut it down before his words could fester.

“It does matter, Linc. Because if it didn’t, you wouldn’t be hiding your true self from Peyton.” He tilted his head to the side, “You wouldn’t use secrets and darkness to get her to love you.”

“I’m not.” I bit out bitterly, “I’m using blood and vengeance to do that.” Leaving as I had intended, I got into a black Aston Martin that Tamen had gifted me years ago on my birthday and burned rubber on my way down the driveway.

His words were too close to home, and I needed the ache they caused in my chest to go away. And I’d get that calm peacefulness by avenging Peyton’s nightmare.

She once dreamed of monsters and things that went bump in the night, like they were a bad thing. But her monster was going to right every wrong done to her.

No one could heal my pain, so I’d heal hers and live in her happiness second hand.

Iwalked across the dark parking lot, taking my place in the shadows where I belonged and waited.

And watched.

The apartment that Peyton and Tyson shared was on the third floor of a mid-range building on the outskirts of the city. The apartment had a lack of security, and their living room windows were conveniently connected to a fire escape.

It was too easy, really.

Ripe pickings, if you will.

I just had to time it right.

Not that Tyson would be any bit of a fight against me, I was just hoping to avoid drawing a crowd. Because if there was a crowd, I’d have to work fast.

And I wanted to take my fucking time with the limpdick prick.

Before I could move from my spot in the shadows, I sensed movement to my right, though there was no disturbance to the shrubs I was standing in. It was too dark to make out the way the dark somehow got darker, but I knew what that meant.

“Maddox.”

A sinister grin broke through the darkness and I rolled my eyes as his dark creepy silhouette took his place next to mine.

“Who are we hunting, Linc?”

Fucking psychopaths.

“Leave.”

“Aw come on,” He pushed his shoulder into mine and looked at the building. “It must be good if Tamen risked his life to contact me.”

Tamen and Maddox had a feud deep enough to bleed them both dry before they wised up and saved themselves. It was more than likely going to cause their actual deaths someday. I knew exactly what kind of sour taste it must have left in Tamen’s mouth to reach out to my only other ally.

“I don’t need any help.” While gazing at my target window, I noticed the light inside turn off. Tyson was milking a serious set of wounds to his face, which apparently made him decide to stay in tonight and go to bed early.

That was perfect. It would give me more time to draw out his torture before daylight crested the skyline.

“This isn’t about help, Linc.” He turned to look at me and I glanced over at his face. “I know the Ghost doesn’t need my help.” Maddox looked back up at the building, keyed into where I was looking at Tyson’s window. “But a little company never hurt.”

“I work alone.” I picked up my bag from the ground and walked out of the tree line.

His silent footsteps followed. I knew if I looked behind me, he’d be impossible to see in the shadows. The man didn’t exist unless he wanted you to know he did. “I remember a time when you would have been so excited for a chance to work collaboratively that you would have foamed at the mouth. Which means this one must be special.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking special.” I broke the cheap lock on the fire escape ladder and pulled it down. How fucking unsafe was Peyton while she lived here if I could get the ladder down that led to her window that easily. Not anymore. She’d never come back to the place. “Which is why I’m doing it by myself.”

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