Page 240 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

The finality in his words slices clean through me.

He turns and walks out, each step echoing like a countdown.

The door slams, the sound ripping through the space like a bullet.

And I’m left standing there—alone.

Declan is gone.

The door slammed minutes ago, but the sound still echoes in the hollow spaces he left behind.

I stand there for a long moment, my fingertips brushing my lips, as if I can somehow trap the lingering feeling before it disappears completely.

When I close my eyes, the memories come rushing back—uninvited, vivid, sharp.

The first time I ever laid eyes on Declan Blackwood... just over a year ago.

Vivid green eyes. A scowl sharp enough to cut glass. That jawline that could’ve been copyrighted as a weapon.

I felt it even then—the pull.

Like a moth spotting a bonfire and thinking,yes, let’s definitely fly into that.

And since then, it’s only gotten worse.

Every time he looks at me, touches me, calls me Lollipop with that growl of his—I come alive in ways I don't even know how to explain.

It has never been about the fantasy.

Not about the shadowed figure who watches from the dark.

It has always been Declan.

Why did I doubt that?

The answer sinks into me like a stone: fear.

Fear of what happens when someone sees all the parts of me that I have to keep locked away.

Fear of the darkness that lives within me now.

But maybe... maybe Declan wouldn’t run from it.

Maybe he would see past the monster I’ve become.

I wipe beneath my eyes and gather what little courage I have left.

I need to go after him. To tell him I choose him. About my stalker. Everything.

My heart is thudding so loudly I almost miss the soft creak of the door opening again.

I freeze, hope flaring so brightly inside me that it nearly makes my knees weak.

He came back.

I step into the center aisle between the rows of evidence shelves, my voice breaking the quiet.

“Declan—”

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