Page 110 of Property of Chaos

I didn’t bring anything with me.If I’d bothered to think about this, I might have brought some paper and a pen to leave him a note. Play him at his own game. I smile, a chuckle rattling in my chest at the thought. Who’s the stalker now?I could write something in the dust.But who’s to say he’d be the one to find it first? Or the house wouldn’t swallow my words before he got to it.

I pat my leg, the smartphone in the tight pocket of my gym leggings.

You’re crazy.Yeah, but Chaos gets my madness.

I tug the device free and switch to the camera, tidying the worst of my messed-up hair and ruing the decision to get hot and sweaty before doing this.What the fuck ever.Like he hasn’t already seen me at my worst in his little feeds.

“Guess where I am,” I taunt, holding the phone out before me as I walk across to the window. “You can see my house pretty good from here, hey?” I set the phone down in the same place he had his and back away into the middle of the room. “Where will you put your bed?” I gesture between the sconces. “Here?” Then, to where I stand. “Or here, where you can see my place better while you jack off to the thought of me?” A crazed chuckle falls from my lips before my smile fades.

Why do I like the idea of that so much?What is it about his fucking obsession that has me feeling secure? Safe.

Valued.

I snap back to the task with a slight shake of my head, tongue wetting my parched lips.

“Not that it matters anyway.” I frown, squinting a little at the dark clouds beyond my house. “I meant what I said at the cafe. The things you do…” I sigh, hugging myself. “They make the situation worse. This trip?” I huff a laugh. “It’s hard enough without poking the bear, Chaos. But I guess that’s hard for you to understand because things in your world are so different.” I turn a little, taking in my surroundings. “I can’t imagine what it’ll be like for this house to be filled with bikers. With whatever illegal shit you do. It’s a violation of sorts but also thrilling, and I can’t understand why I think that. Why does such a volatile life appeal to me when I spent so long getting away from one?” My nostrils flare with each breath, tears burning at the back of my eyes. “Why am I so broken?”

Fuck.I didn’t intend to get here, but it felt right to get my thoughts out. An alleviation of the pressure that makes my shoulders ache and my chest tight.

I dash over to the phone and kill the recording, thumb hovering over the screen. Do I send him this? It’s hardly the tease I intended it to be, but at the same time, it’s raw and honest.

There are things he needs to know if he wants to understand why I keep the distance between us despite how badly it hurts.

I attach the video and hit Send, closing the messaging app and pocketing the phone as I draw a deep breath.It’ll be okay.It always is.

With a last glance at my cute little cottage, I head downstairs and lose myself exploring the remainder of the home. Some remnants of the former owners remain: newspaper pages used to line pantry shelves, an old teddy bear on a windowsill, and a few pieces of framed art, the glass cracked or broken.

It’s haunting, and I can’t escape the feeling of being watched as I move through the rooms.It’s an abandoned old house. Totally normal.Also not surprising considering I’ve been watched for weeks in my own home.

The sun shifts closer to the horizon as I step out the back and spot an old shed to the left, weathered and on a lean, boards missing from the walls. The scratch of my running shoes is the only sound as I cross the yard to the shadowed building, darkness beyond the crack in the door. I reach out, fingers inches from the handle, when a terse voice has me swallow back a scream.

“You don’t want to look in there.”

I spin and come face-to-face with a guy easily a foot taller than me, broad and vicious in his sharp beauty.One of his.I scowl at the leather cut hanging over his sloped shoulders and seek out the badge on his chest.Treasurer, huh?

“Why not?”

He taps his thumbs against his hipbones, unsure what to do with his hands. “It ain’t pretty.” The vampiric fucker strides past me and jerks the door shut properly. “Used to be a kill house. Where they’d butcher the stock off the farm.” He turns his head and looks down at me. “They didn’t clean it before they stopped using it.”

“Oh.” I take a step back. “Fair enough.” Probably a good thing I didn’t take a peek and start making stories in my head about it then.

“I’ll walk you home.”

The fuck?I lift my hands, palm out. “Hold your horses there, buddy.” He may be one of Chaos’s men, but I don’t know this guy from Adam. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back safely on my own.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

I take three more steps backward from the gothic monstrosity and turn heel, setting a quick pace toward the driveway.

A second set of footsteps echoes my own.

I stop. So does he. I start, and he lags but does the same.

“Do you mind?” I spin and face the guy, angered that as fucking freaky as he is, the mess of black hair tangling in his eyes makes him look like some Victorian dream.

“Following orders, Vanessa.” He nods as though indicating I should continue.

I do, talking to him all the same. “Why didn’t I hear you arrive?” Surely, he has a stupidly loud bike like the rest of them.

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