Page 32 of Behind the Shadows
My legs trembled as I put my foot on the brake and pushed the start button of the car. The blouse lay beside me on the passenger seat, like a crime scene, neatly wrapped in plastic and horror.
I don’t remember what happened.
I don’t remember.
A few minutes later, I was speeding down the highway as fast as the law allowed, my thoughts a chaotic jumble. I questioned everything I’d dismissed lately as stress, replaying moments I’d tortured myself with relentless doubt, obsessing over every detail, but nothing gnawed at me more than the unsettling reality of Ally’s death certificate being mysteriously moved.
I gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white, heart slamming behind my ribs like it wanted to escape me. I kept driving, but the road started to blur at the edges. Every red light pulsed like it was mocking me. Every set of headlights behind me felt like someone was following.
A chill crept up my spine as eerie music began to play in my car. “What the hell? I’ve never heard this song in my life.” I glanced at the stereo, watching as the title scrolled across the screen: “Ring-A Ring-A Roses.”
I listened, the lyrics twisting the familiar nursery rhyme into a sinister promise of finding someone, coming to get them, and stealing their last breath, leaving me questioning what was real.
Hazy memories of last night toyed with me.
A flash of metal.
The glint of a red mask.
A voice saying,Mine.
My thighs tensed as I remembered a mouth pressed to mine, rough touch …
A car horn blared with a deafening wail, jolting me with a shockwave that shot through me. I veered out of the lane, gasping for air as adrenaline surged through my veins. With my heart pounding like a war drum, I skidded onto the shoulder, my hands trembling violently against the steering wheel. I swallowed over the big lump in my throat, trying to block out all the chaos.
“Jesus Christ. I’m losing my goddamn mind.”Hazy images of the masked man invaded my thoughts, and my thighs clenched again. An overwhelming dark, twisted desire spread through me like wildfire. Maybe I liked being fucked and not knowing by who … if that was what it even was.Oh my god. What the hell is wrong with me?Was I turned on … by being fucked while asleep? Used? No name, no face—only rough hands and a word in the dark. I hated how my body responded to it. And I hated even more that a part of me craved it again. A part of me understood that my sexual appetite wasn’t normal. Not after what I’d lived through. I thought it might settle down after healing and therapy, but apparently not. I still wanted the dark and fucked up.
“No!” I slammed my palm against the steering wheel. A part of me wanted what my mind couldn’t accept. That terrified me more than anything. Dammit, I was losing my shit. My new reality was distorted … a mess. It was only a matter of time before I slid down the slippery slope into madness after everything I’d lived through. The darkness wasn’t just chasing me. It had already climbed into bed, fucked me, and whispered my name.
13
HOLLAND
Flipping my turn signal on, I merged back into traffic but quickly exited to take the back roads. During rush hour, it would be faster to get home that way, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to keep an eye out in case someone was tailing me.
The next twenty minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity, every second crawling by with suffocating dread, and I finally pulled into my driveway. I parked in the open, a silent plea for my neighbors to notice my presence, a precaution in case something bad was waiting for me. With my heart pounding, I chose the front entrance. It would be more likely someone would hear me if I screamed.
Once inside, I left the door open behind me. Sweat coated my palms while I removed my gun once more and took a few steps into the entryway.
I searched around the room, scanning for any signs of disturbance, but everything seemed untouched. With a quick shrug of my shoulder, I dropped my handbag, jumping as it made a loud thud on the cherry wood floor. Room by room, I conducted a search, peering under beds, into closets, andyanking back the shower curtain, my pulse racing with every unchecked corner.
“Better safe than sorry,” I muttered. I lowered my arm to my side, and I flipped on the switch for the living room lights before I secured the front door. Daylight made everything look safer. But the worst kinds of evil didn’t hide in the shadows—they thrived in plain sight, smiling as the world stared them in the eye.
Still on high alert, I made my way to my bedroom and set the weapon on my nightstand. I wanted to change into something more comfortable—jeans and a comfy shirt. I searched through my closet and realized I’d left the blouse in the car, but it could wait until Kip was here and could go out with me. After scouring every inch of the place, a fleeting sense of safety washed over me. But then I froze mid-motion as a chilling thought invaded my mind. I turned slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling with the undeniable sensation of being watched. The soft, eerie glow of my personal computer seized my attention. I struggled to suppress the gnawing suspicion that Draco or Cooper had bugged my home with hidden cameras and tapped my phone.
My hands clenched into tight fists, a seething fury coursing through my veins like wildfire.
“Fuck you!” I yelled, sitting in front of my laptop and staring at the camera. “Funny how you were too chickenshit to visit me while I was awake and not in an Ambien-induced coma.”
I closed the laptop, unsure if I was being spied on, but I was about to find out.
Over the next hour, I combed every inch from top to bottom. I unscrewed every light bulb, searched in the bottom of every lamp and behind every light switch.
I rubbed the back of my neck, seething while I stared at ten little devices that, minutes ago, had been hidden in my home—watching me. Watching me shower, dress, conduct confidential virtual sessions with some of my clients.
When the hall clock chimed, I looked away from the evidence to check the time. Shit. I’d forgotten about Kip during all the chaos. It was five-thirty, and I had to clean up before he arrived. Confident that I’d found all the cameras, I scooped them into a shoe box and shoved them in the hall closet before I hurried to my room. I shed my slacks and blouse and tossed them on the floor. I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door, my jaw dropping when I noticed the green and yellow bruises on the inside of my thighs.
“Shit.” I moved closer and ran my fingers over the discolored marks. The bruises proved it. Even I could only wear denial as a second skin for so long.
