Page 42 of Shadows of Obsession

"Is Mrs. Mitchell still trying to find a husband?" I ask, laughing, because mom works at a nursing home.

One of the residents, Mrs. Mitchell, is mom's favorite. At eighty-two you'd think she wants peace, but no. For five years now she's been looking for a wealthy elderly man to walk along the beach and enjoy coffee with.

"You know her," he laughs. "A few months ago she was about to propose to Mr. Carson, but fortunately your mother intervened in time."

Mr. Carson is the sweetest presence in the entire nursing home. At seventy-eight he's a widower who, after losing his wife, couldn't bear the loneliness in a house full of memories and chose to come to the nursing home voluntarily.

Every Sunday when mom was on duty, I would go there too, and Mr. Carson would play classical music on the gramophone and always invite me to dance. I felt like a real princess.

"Poor thing, although I have to admit there's something between them." I can't help but laugh when I think about Mrs. Mitchell, with her feather-adorned scarves, and Mr. Carson, who never parts with his pocket watch.

"We miss you, little Luna," Dad tells me in a soft tone, and suddenly guilt hits me right in the chest.

I miss them sometimes so much I can barely breathe, but the best thing I did was keep them away from all the chaos of the last year. I know if they saw me face-to-face they would realize something bad happened.

After I hang up the phone and finish devouring the tuna salad made from what was left in the fridge, I head to bed. All I have in my head are stormy eyes that care if I make it to my apartment door in one piece.

After today, sleep pulls me down almost instantly.

A knock at the door makes me jump out of my work chair. It's almost eleven at night and I'm not expecting anyone - my heart's already racing as I creep to the door.

Through the peephole I see a man with brown hair, wearing a leather jacket. I hold my breath for a few seconds, like maybe he won't sense me here, but the lamp by my window's probably already given me away. Another knock makes me jump, and I move to open up. Don't know why I'm so freaked out.

“Hello. Something wrong?” I ask, cracking the door just enough to peek my head through.

“Is Aidan here?”

God, that voice. His baritone's so deep it could rattle windows if he spoke any louder.

“No,” I say with a frown, wondering what Aidan has to do with my apartment.

Perfect. Now all his friends are hunting for him at my place. This guy just won't accept we're done. The rage must show on my face because suddenly he shoves the door open with one hand, pushing me aside like I'm some toy in his way.

“Hey! You can't just barge into my house!” I yell, heading for my phone - I'm not stupid enough to take on someone twice my size.

His eyes turn black when he sees where I'm going.

My little steps are no match for his - he grabs me around the waist and clamps his hand over my mouth while I try desperately to scream. God, I'm such an idiot for opening the door this late. My eyes squeeze shut as panic starts to take over. I need to breathe but can't with his hand covering my mouth and nose.

“Listen, doll, I don't want to hurt you more than necessary…”

A knife appears in front of me, trailing down to my stomach.

Still holding me with the blade pressed against my belly, he closes the door like this is totally normal.

"We're going to call your friend, and he better come quickly. My fingers have been itching for some blood for days." His voice gives me goosebumps because you can feel the violence pulsing in it.

From his leather jacket pocket he pulls out some rope, a sign he was prepared for this kind of situation, and slowly takes his hand from my mouth. I don't dare move even though I know I could run. In those few seconds I could escape, but my entire body is frozen in place. My brain screams to move, but my muscles are captive, paralyzed by everything happening to me.

Suddenly I'm pushed onto a chair and feel my wrists being tied to its seat. He even chose one without a backrest, so if I move I’ll fall with it without problem.

He rises from beside the chair and calls someone. Although I have tears in my eyes and can only see him blurrily, I realize I wouldn't have had any chance fighting him. He's surely six foot three and over two hundred pounds.

The moment someone takes the call, he gives me a categorical sign to be quiet. The person on the other end of the phone yells angrily, but when he puts it on speaker, I feel my soul tear hearing Aidan's voice.

"I told you you'll see the money in a week. Tell Damien you didn't find me. What the hell, Igor."

Then it hits me why these people are looking for him.

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