Page 2 of Make You Mine

Every line and picture—the annotations from those who compiled the information—filter through my head on an unending movie reel as I wait for my assignment to be delivered. I’m on high alert. Fucking angry. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, the horror shewitnessedperturbs me on a personal level, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.

Not because of the victims. Not because of the nature of the case.

It’s her.Ava.

Something about her affects me, and it’s beyond my control.

I want to hunt him down and return the favor. Dismantle him limb by limb.

Closing my eyes, I exhale slowly as her face reappears behind my now-closed lids. I see how she grins at the camera, a frilly pink apron with the nameCherry On Topembroidered into the fabric as she stands with a large pair of scissors ready to open the door to her bakery. The sweet expression—a mirrored reflection of the simple goodness inside her—carries through every photograph inside the folder.

From her job to outings with friends and selfies, she shared on her social media accounts.

From statements taken from those who know Ava. People who are worried and care for her safety—who have first-hand knowledge of the way she curls her lip when she smiles and the dimple that immediately appears on her right cheek. Of the way her cerulean orbs always seem to shine with happiness.

So much emotion in those photographs. Each one heats the blood inside my veins for this stranger. Because I don’t know this woman—have no connection to her outside this case—and yet, I feel protective of her.

The question is…

“Why?” And as of right now, I’m without a satisfying answer. There shouldn’t be a single reason that goes beyond my need to serve and protect, but even those are empty platitudes.Or maybe it’s knowing just how close she came to being another name on a long list of slain females.

A possibility, but it doesn’t explain my reactions. I’ve never wanted to trace a finger down any woman's photograph or grin just because she does—two things I've done today and feel no shame because of it, either.

Instead, I’m eaten by the feeling that I’ve failedher,and it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

It also leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.

“Son of a bitch, this is going to be a mess.” Shoving the file aside, I move to stand and stretch my neck when my eyes connect with a single sheet that slid out of the folder. It has her basic information and a photograph of her driver’s license, but what I’m struck by is the handwritten note at the bottom.

All women. All young. They were between the ages of nineteen and twenty-nine with the same physicalattributes: chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, and were short in stature.

A sinking feeling slams into my chest as I connect the dots to her reality:

Ava Perry is the physical embodiment of a delicate doll. Simply gorgeous.

But more than that, why he chooses each victim becomes crystal clear.

They resemble her.

She’s his muse.

And I’m going to gouge out pieces of his flesh and force him to eat it.

1

AVA

TWO MONTHS AGO…

That Night...

“Jesus, it’s hot,” I whisper under my breath, wiping the few beads of sweat rolling down my temple. It’s late and humid—quiet—and a feeling of unease fills my chest as the sudden stillness overwhelms my system.

I’m surrounded by it. Not a single, minuscule noise can be heard.

There’s not so much as a stranger passing by or a car on the road, something completely at odds within the tight-knit community I call home. Because there’s always someone around. Always an event or gathering, people talking while sipping coffee or having a beer, no matter what time of year it is.

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