Page 88 of Bake the Town Red

Once I’ll warn the citizens of New York.

Readers and critters,

Tonight, I won’t discuss our October Killer. Not because I’ve lost them—I haven’t.

Another predator is on the loose. An elusive one. One I’ve had my eye on for a while.

I admit, I have no idea who they are. I will say this one thing: if you’re out there, laughing and holding your bellies at a standup comedy club, watch your back. Don’t walk home alone. Don’t ride a cab or an Uber by yourself.

He’ll be on the prowl tomorrow. I can guarantee it.

You are not safe.

I repeat. You. Are. Not. Safe.

Until later,

CTCyfrin.

The second I hit send, a comment pops up. I expect Watcher1988 to have something clever to say.

Instead, I get this.My game. My rules.

The fucker follows my blog.

Before this month, I would’ve seethed at his challenge. Would’ve done everything in my power to lure him out of the shadows. The primal need to destroy him, to bury a knife through his chest, it would’ve been too great.

Many years ago, holding back cost me a life. Many lives. I let a killer go, and ever since, my subconscious has been working hard to make up for that mistake. Even when I don’t want to, I do it.

But there’s no compulsion when it comes toImEverywhere.

Not anymore

Dahlia is a part of my life again.

And I…

Fuck.

I thought I was getting better. But there it is. That itch. That violent urge that won’t let go. It’s messing with my head.

My vision blurs around the edges.

I’m the opposite of calm. Thinking about going to see her has turned me into a madman. I’m a storm of need and wrath and I have to have her.

Dahlia.

Own her. Take her.

Tonight and in the next thousand years.

I guess she’ll have to accept the broken man I am. The monster I’ve become.

And I’ll have to try not to suffocate her with how much I need her.

With my bag slung over my shoulder and the special gift I have just for her, I’m out the door.

I’m going to my woman.

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