Page 57 of Property of Chaos

I scramble off the bed and retrieve the phone, opening the first social app my thumb comes across. If he’s legit, there’ll be a record of his life here. Sure, I’m not that ofay with socials considering they were barred during my teenage years and something I’ve actively avoided since, but I have some idea how they work.

It’s impossible to get through day-to-day life without seeing indicators of its importance shoved down my throat in advertising everywhere.

The digital revolution arrived, and with it went everyone’s autonomy. Everything is done now for validation. For praise.

For likes.

Fuck—I see how much it affects Marianna when her business posts hit a wall. It’s a sickness, and when you’re as already unwell as I am, well, it’s one more disease I don’t have the bandwidth to fight.

I exhale heavily out my nose and stare down at the screen as I fudge my way through the account creation process, then bring up the search bar to type out the five simple letters of his name. I hesitate.Chaos.He wouldn’t have a profile under that.Would he?

I hit search anyway. Sure enough, all I get is a slew of businesses, martial arts schools, and a couple of car clubs thrown in for good measure. Nowhere is there a tall, brooding biker with eyes that command I fall to my knees and confess my darkest desires.Damn it.What now?

How do I find him? I can’t message Marianna this late at night and ask her how she knows who that strange guy watching me was and if she knows Chaos, too. Otherwise, she’d ask why I brought him up, and then what would I say?

Oh, he’s been watching me from close and afar for weeks now?

Of course, you idiot. Where has he been all this time?

I ditch the phone, much to Murphy’s dislike, and clamber off the bed again, darting to the window.The light—shit.I dive right, slamming my hand on the switch to plunge my room into darkness, and then resume my post at the gap in my curtains.What the hell am I doing?Am I that far gone that I seek out the attention of a dangerous man to ease the ache of my mother’s death? My brother’s disappearance?

Yes. Yes, I am.

I scour the landscape, my eyes adjusting better to the dark the longer I hover with hands white-knuckled on my windowsill. Yet, no matter how long I search the shadows and shapes of the roadside opposite, I can’t find a trace of him. No solid outline. No glow of a cigarette amongst the grass.There’s too much in the way.Damn, the pretty garden.

“This is madness, Ness,” I mutter to myself.

And yet, I turn for the pile of washing anyway and tug out my oversized sweatshirt to jerk it on over my sleepwear.He said he liked your T-shirt.Yeah, he did. But what if it’s not him out there? What if it’s that crazy guy again? What’s his name? Carny?Circus.Yeah, that’s it. What if it’s Circus who watches me from their new home?

I hesitate halfway down the hallway as the realization hits.Their new home.How long have I got until a whole fucking gang of those guys calls the old farmhouse theirs? Will I cope with the intrusion?

I’m going to have to.

My bare feet slap across the floorboards as I dart into the kitchen and grab a knife, just in case. Handle clutched in my fist, I march back to the front of the house and jerk the door open.Where are you?The breeze tickles my bare legs as I creep to the very edge of the porch and search the road.Nothing.

Shoulders sagging, I turn to head back inside when the shifting shadows snare my periphery. I spin around, leap off the porch in one long stride, and then jog lightly down to the gate.

Sure enough, the outline of broad shoulders shifts against the dark field beyond.

“I can see you.”Damn, my shaky voice.I clear my throat and try again. “There’s no point hiding.”

The man pushes off the fence and stalks toward me, but the height is wrong.His hair isn’t blond.And there’s not enough of it.Shit.My heart pounds a fist against my ribcage as Circussteps onto the dirt and stops halfway across the road toward me.Knew it.

He shunts a hand in his pocket, tugs out his phone, and takes a fucking photo.

“You good there, buddy?” I lift the hand that clutches the knife and knock the catch open on the gate.

His head is down, thumbs working the screen as I approach.

I stop out of arm’s reach—because I’m notthathorror movie girl—and call out to get his attention. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”

He lifts his head. My veins chill. His goddamn eyes are black. Not the actual eyeball, but the hollow beneath his eyebrows, all the way down to under his lower lashes.Is it actually inked like that?

“Why are you here?” I ask, voice a darn sight smaller than before he looked at me. “Why not Chaos?”

He tilts his head, mouth opening slightly as he runs his tongue across his upper molars.

“I asked you a question.”

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