Page 57 of My Bloody Valentine

“Why not?” Amelia leans forward, her paint-stained hands gripping her own mug. “He’s dangerous. What if he does this to someone else?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. If she only knew the truth. The blood in his chocolates. The lives he’s taken.

“There are things about him... about what happened...” I struggle to find the right words. “I’m involved now. Too deeply.”

“That’s Stockholm syndrome talking.” Amelia’s firm voice rises with frustration. “Listen to yourself!”

But it’s more than that. Every mark on my body tingles with the ghost of his touch. Every breath carries the lingering taste of his chocolates. He’s carved himself into my soul, and I’m unsure I want him gone.

“I just need time to think.” I set down the coffee, my stomach too knotted to drink more. “Please, Amelia. Don’t push this.”

She studies my face, and I see her realize she can’t change my mind. Her shoulders slump in defeat.

“At least stay here tonight. You shouldn’t be alone.”

I nod, grateful for her friendship even as guilt gnaws at me. I’m protecting a killer, choosing him over justice. But the truth is, a part of me is already his—marked, claimed, transformed. And no amount of distance can change that.

24

ADRIAN

The empty bed jolts me awake. My hand sweeps across the cold sheets where Maya should be. The silence in the suite crashes against my ears like waves.

My fingers curl into fists. The careful control, I maintain splinters, and a raw growl tears from my throat. I grab the nearest object—a crystal water glass—and hurl it against the wall. The sound of shattering glass brings no satisfaction.

“You ungrateful little bitch.” The words come out in a hiss as I pace the room. Each step sends tremors of rage through my body. “After everything I gave you.”

My reflection catches in a mirror—eyes wild, hair disheveled. This isn’t me. This isn’t the composed Adrian Vale who crafts perfect chocolates and seduces food critics. This is something I keep carefully hidden beneath expensive suits and charming smiles.

I need to think clearly, calculate, and plan. But I’m lacking my usual orderly mind as I pick up my phone, and I know I can’t do this alone. Gabe will be insufferable about it, but he’s the only one who understands.

The phone rings three times before he answers.

“She’s gone.” The words taste like ash in my mouth.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” Gabe’s voice holds no judgment, just resignation.

“Bring the kit.” I end the call before he can respond.

My breathing steadies as I survey the room. Maya’s scent still lingers—jasmine. Sweet. Intoxicating. A smile forms as I imagine her trying to escape, thinking she’s free. But she’s absorbed too much of me now, knows too much.

The monster inside me unfurls, no longer restrained by the need to seduce and play. Now it’s time for the hunt, and I’ve always excelled at that part of the game.

The doorbell chimes. Gabe enters without waiting, carrying a sleek black briefcase.

“You look like shit,” he says, setting up his laptop on my marble counter.

I rake my fingers through my hair. “Save the lecture. Did you bring everything?”

“When have I ever let you down?” He opens the briefcase, revealing an array of surveillance equipment. “Though I should point out?—”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.” He types rapidly, screens reflecting in his glasses. “Smart girl. Credit cards haven’t been used. No movement on her bank accounts.”

I pace behind him, my jaw clenched. “She has to surface eventually. Work, apartment, that little café she loves...”

“Already have alerts set for her usual spots.” Gabe navigates through dark web forums. “My contacts will ping if she shows up anywhere on their radar. But Adrian...” He hesitates. “She’s clearly had help.”

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