Page 79 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

Not trapped in a fucking closet because her lapdog thinks he’s the Secret Service.

My fists clench. She’s getting closer. Every step slams through my ribs. The doorknob twitches. Squeaks.

No, no, no?—

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rings, sharp and obnoxious. Poppy stops. Even Dexter hesitates.

Relief hits, sharp and nauseating. It vanishes just as fast, drowned in possessive fury.

Who the fuck is that?

My jaw locks. Rage coils behind my teeth.

A date?

I’ll fucking bury him.

I hear her murmur something low to Dexter, then her footsteps retreat down the stairs.

I move instantly. Slip from the utility closet and into the linen one across the hall, closing the door with surgical precision.

Phone out. Security feed up.

There’s a fucking man at the door holding something. Tall and lanky build. Flannel and jeans. Nothing memorable.

I already know I hate him.

I sure as fuck don’t like him ringing my girl’s doorbell.

Downstairs, the door creaks. Muffled voices follow.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she says brightly. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

The door closes. My breath leaves in a slow, ragged stream—relief tangled with suspicion.

Who the hell was that?

Her tone was casual, even grateful. A neighbor? Something more?

I would’ve known if she were seeing someone. If she had a date.

Before I can spiral further, her voice rises again, amused and exasperated—clearly for the fluff-ball who nearly blew my cover.

“Dexter, we’re wanted for murder,” she says sweetly. “We can’t just go around forgetting things in our Ubers, okay? I need you to pull your weight.”

Realization hits, cold and sharp.

Of course. Just the rideshare driver—returning something she left behind.

Christ, Poppy. You'll be the death of me.

I crouch in the linen closet, tension slowly leaking from my muscles. Her voice fades back into the hum of the house.

I exhale, leaning against neatly folded towels that smell like her.

I hear her on the stairs—unbothered. Predictable sunshine, always needing to prove she’s right.

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