Page 65 of Pose for Me

I look back at the woman, really studying her now. Lacy's designer clothes are rumpled, her silk blouse partially untucked from her pencil skirt. There's a wild, desperate look in her eyes as they dart between the three of us.

My mind races, piecing together the puzzle. Lacy had been overly enthusiastic when I had watched her visit the studio both times I saw her. And both times she had lingered a little too long outside the studio.

She has focused her pleading eyes on Rayne. Knox strides over to her and peels off the tape from her mouth in one swift motion. Lacy wastes no time in trying to plead with Rayne, her voice hoarse and trembling.

"Rayne! Oh thank God you're here!" Lacy cries, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I don't understand what's happening. Why are they doing this to me? Please, you have to help me!"

I have to hand it to her, she's good. Her performance is almost flawless, each word dripping with fear and desperation. Her blue eyes, wide and brimming with unshed tears, are fixed solely on Rayne. It's as if Knox and I don't even exist in her world right now.

I watch as Lacy's words wash over Rayne, her desperate pleas tugging at the compassionate heart I know beats within our girl's chest. Rayne's eyes cloud with doubt, her brow furrowing as she tries to reconcile the sobbing woman before her with the stalker who's been tormenting her.

"I-I don't understand," Lacy continues, her voice quavering. "I had only just gotten home and was making myself a tea when that man," she nods towards Knox, her eyes never leaving Rayne's face, "broke in and grabbed me. He tied me up and brought me down here to this... this basement. Rayne, please, you have to believe me!"

Her act is impressive, I'll give her that. The tremor in her voice, the way her body shakes with apparent fear, it's all very convincing. If I didn't know better, I might be swayed myself. But I do know better, and I can see the cracks in her facade.

There's a glint in her eyes that doesn't match her terrified words. A hint of calculation behind the tears. It's subtle, but it's there. I wonder if Rayne can see it too.

I glance at Knox, seeing the same thoughts reflected in his eyes. He catches my gaze, a silent communication passing between us. Then, with a small huff of laughter, he speaks.

"That's funny," Knox says, his voice low and dangerous, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You seem to be forgetting the part where you laughed and said you hoped River and I would die slow, painful deaths."

Lacy's eyes widen, a picture of wounded innocence. "No! That's not true!" she cries, her voice pitched high with desperation. "Rayne, please, you can't believe them. They're lying!"

I watch the scene unfold, fascinated by the interplay of emotions flickering across both women's faces. Lacy’s performance is Oscar-worthy, each trembling word and tearful glance carefully calculated to elicit sympathy.

My gaze shifts to Rayne, and I feel a surge of pride and affection. The doubt that had clouded her eyes mere moments ago is rapidly clearing, like storm clouds parting to reveal a brilliant sky. Her jaw sets, a steely determination replacing the uncertainty that had briefly flickered across her beautiful features.

It's reassuring to see how quickly Rayne's faith in us solidifies. All it took was a single word from Knox to tip the scales, to remind her of the unshakeable trust that binds us together. In that moment, I fall even deeper in love with her, if such a thing is possible.

Rayne takes a step closer to Lacy, her movements slow and deliberate. There's a new energy about her now, a predatory grace that sends a thrill down my spine. This is a side of Rayne we've only glimpsed before, and seeing it emerge fully is intoxicating.

"You know, Lacy," Rayne says, her voice calm and controlled, "I've always prided myself on my ability to read people. It's part of what makes me good at what I do.”

As Rayne speaks, I watch the facade melt away from Lacy like wax under a flame. The trembling lip stills, the wide-eyed innocence fades, replaced by something altogether more sinister. It's as if a mask has been lifted, revealing the true face beneath, and it's not a pretty sight.

I reach down and lift my pants leg, my fingers wrapping around the familiar grip of the knife strapped there. The blade slides free with a soft whisper of steel against leather, the weight comforting in my palm. It's the same knife I used in the alley the other night, when I saved Rayne from that would-be attacker. The memory of how easily the blade sank into flesh, how warm blood coated my glove, sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

The knife is a vicious thing, designed for one purpose and one purpose only. Its serrated edge gleams dully in the dim light, promising pain and suffering to whoever feels its bite. I begin to circle them, my movements slow and deliberate, like a shark scenting blood in the water.

Lacy's eyes narrow, the fear and desperation replaced by a cold, calculating gleam. Her lips twist into a snarl, baring her teeth in a feral grin that sends a chill through me. Now revealing the true face of madness that had been lurking just beneath the surface.

"You're right, Rayne. You are good at reading people. But not good enough, it seems. Not good enough to see what was right in front of you all this time," Lacy hisses, her voice dripping with venom.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. To finally show you who I really am, Rayne.” She leans forward in her chair, straining against her bonds. "I've watched you for months, you know. Followed your every move. Did you like my little gifts? The photos? The messages? I put so much thought into each one. I wanted them to be perfect."

A low growl builds in my chest as I listen to her deranged ranting. My grip tightens on the knife, knuckles white around the handle. I dart forward and press the tip of the blade against Lacy's sternum, just hard enough to dimple the skin beneath her silk blouse.

"Do we really need to know anything else?" I snarl, my voice rough with barely contained fury. "Or can I kill this bitch now?"

Knox tilts his head, considering. His eyes are cold and calculating as he regards Lacy. "We could always pass this off as another victim of the serial killer," he muses. "What do you think, Rayne?”

Rayne's eyes slide to Knox, and I see a twinkle of humor dancing in their sapphire depths. "I mean, sure, we could," she says with a nonchalant shrug, her tone light and casual as if we're discussing dinner plans rather than murder.

Knox steps closer to her, his imposing frame towering over her curvy figure. The contrast between them is striking–his dark, dangerous intensity against her soft femininity.

His large hand comes up, the backs of his fingers brushing tenderly against Rayne's cheek. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the predatory gleam in his eyes. "Are you done playing games yet, baby girl?" he asks softly, his gravelly voice barely above a whisper.

A wicked little grin spreads across Rayne's beautiful lips, transforming her face. It's a look I've never seen on her before–equal parts mischief and darkness, innocence and sin. Her eyes sparkle with a dangerous light, like the glint of a knife in the shadows. That grin speaks of hidden depths, of secrets and desires long kept buried. It's a promise and a challenge all at once.

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