31

When I wake, it takes me a moment to remember wherethe hellI am. All I know is I'm not at my apartment. I'm somewhere that feels so much warmer and safer and—

Jackson.

I sit up, blinking in the darkness. There's a blanket covering me.

Embarrassment lurches uneasily in my stomach. Not only did I run over to Jackson's house when I had a panic attack—like he was my boyfriend—but I accidentally fell asleep on his couchtoo.

Jackson's body is gone from next to me. He must have goneupstairsto bed himself, probably too uncomfortable to wake me up. I'm the crazy patient who thinks she can just run over and cry all over him whenever somethingbadhappens.

Shame burns through me. I've grown too close to Jackson, too reliant on him. As kind as he's been to me, it's just because I'm his patient.

Right?

The sleep begins to fade from my brain. The classical music Jackson put on earlier is now gone. It's been replaced by an ominous, electronic hum of white noisecomingfrom the speakers. I don't know if it's some weird type of rich person relaxation music or if they're just broken.

My eyes adjust to the low neon lighting emanating from the speakers around the room. I check my watch: 3:06 am. I need to leave, thisis too humiliating.

I look back up—

That's when the adrenaline explodes in my veins.

There's a figure standing on the other side of the room.

Staring at me.

It's him.

Hyde.

He's standing motionless, his masked head cocked to one side. He's unmistakable in the same hoodie, dark jeans, and combat boots. The burgundy stitches of his mask are glinting in the dim neon light.

Terror drowns my lungs. I can't even scream.

Every other time Hyde appeared, I was the only one in danger. Now my fucked-up stalker secret has been brought into the home of a man I really don't want to get hurt.

If I don't play this right, Jackson's blood might be on my hands.

Slowly, I pull the blanket offme,as if he can't see me if I don't make any sudden movements. But I know it's not true; I can feel his eyes behind his lifeless mask boring into me like I'm naked.

"Where do you think you're going, Ava?"

The dark static of his voice filtered through the mask drifts across the room. It hits me like a hand closing around my throat. The low, electronic hum sends shockwaves of fear through my body.

I freeze, my voice just above a whisper. "You shouldn't be here. Please don't do this."

He laughs. Cruel andcold,but so mesmerizing. "You expect me to play by your rules?"

"I'm the one you want. Let's go somewhere elseandthen we can talk."

It feels insane to be bargaining with the devil, but I don't know what else to do.

Hyde takes a step forward, closer toward the edge of the couch. Nerves jolt through my body.

"You're trying to protect him. The therapist." There's unconcealed disgust in his voice.

My eyes involuntarily flit towards the staircaseup to whereI assume Jackson's bedroom is.I'm suddenly painfully aware of the volume of our voices.

Please don't let Jackson wake up. Please let me somehow talk Hyde into leaving before Jackson hears and comes downstairs to see who's broken into his house.

Jackson would try to protect me from Hyde, I'm sure of it.And that will only endupwith him on the wrong end of Hyde's cold,powerfulwrath.

"Please don't hurt him," I plead.

"I told you, Ava. Any man who touches you is asking to be fucking strung up and gutted."

I shake my head wildly. "You told me yourself you're looking for revenge. I know the men you killed did something to hurt you, and Jackson isn't anything to do with that. And he didn't touch me like that. Hejustwas comforting one of his patients. That's all I am to him."

Even through the fear, my gut pangs with a strange, bittersweet feeling. I hate that I wish I couldeverbe more than that to Jackson.

The taut muscles of Hyde's body tense. "Why are you protecting him? What does he mean to you?"

"Nothing." The lie sounds so clumsy andobviouson my lips. "I just don't want you to hurt any more innocent people."

Hyde's gloved fingers flex at his sides. My stomach flips in a sickening, hot way. I remember exactly how it felt when those fingers were shoved tight inside mymouth,and deep inside my pussy. I try to quiet the part of my bodythat'sbegging to feel it again.

"The men I killed weren't innocent. You should know that by now, Detective. Or haven't I given you quite enough clues?"

My eyes flit over to the stairs again. My heart is racing, a stuttering, terrified rhythm in my chest. I need to keephimtalking. I need to distract him from harming Jackson because of me.

"Tell me why you did it, then. Why are you going after these people? What crime did they commit?"

"I kill because it feels good, Ava. It's the purest form of power, watching as you drain the life out of them.You should tryit sometime. Or have you already used that gun on your hip—"

His head drops downward. "Oh look. You seem to have left it at home. Your intelligence is one of the things that fascinates me most about you, Ava, but that… Wasn't. Very. Smart."

He punctuates each word with a step forward. I bite my lip to stop myself from shaking. He's right; I carry my service weapon everywhere these days. But todayIwas distracted.

"You knew your victims," I say. "You can lie and say you just kill because it's somekind oftwisted fun for you, but we both know it's more than that. If you tell me what they did, I can help you."

He laughs. "Help me? I'm not one of your petty shoplifters, Ava. There's no help for the truly wicked. Just a jail cell or the electric chair."

"You're right. It's too late to undo what you did. But if there are other people on your list, onesthat arestill alive, I can help bring them to justice the right way. I know it'snot perfect, but the legal system can help you."

"Is that what you would do if someone hurt you?"

I swallow. My throat feels tight.

He doesn't know about Harvey.

It's impossible.

"Of course," I mutter.

"You wouldn't give up on the law? Even if the system failed you, again"—he steps forward—"and again"—another step—"and again?"

He's just a few paces in front of me now. I shrink back against the couch.

"I'd keep trying."

"You wouldn't take matters into your own hands? Push,orslice, or crush whatever problem you had until you were finally totally, utterly free?"

"No." I breathe the word, hardly audible over the eerie hum from the speakers.

He reaches down to where I sit, cupping my jawin his handand lifting my face to meet his masked eyes. "I don't believe you. I see it in your pretty eyes, Ava. It's like looking into a soul I know completely. And the soul I see has done some terrible, beautiful things."

The blood in my veins feels heavy andlanguid. Primal hunger is unfurling within me.

"We're not the same," I mutter, but I don't shake free from his grip. "Tell me what those men did to you. Did you know them when you were young?"

"You like a guessing game, don't you, Detective? Here's one for you now. Try to guessexactlywhat I'll do to you when I catch you."

"C—catch me?" I trip over my words.

"Yes, little dove." My stomach drops. His grip tightens around my jaw, and I stifle a yelp. "I'm going to let you run. But when I catch you,I'm going togive you something."

I whimper involuntarily.

"Do you want my cock again, Ava? Have you been dreaming about it like I've been dreaming about taking your tight little pussy again?"

Yes. I want it. I want it so fucking badly.

The thought screams out in my head. I shift, suddenly feeling the hot, slick wetness between my legs. I push my thighs together tight, praying it will dissipate. But I can't deny it. I want to feel it all over again. The night at the club wasn't enough.

"I… I…" The sentence dies on my lips. It's too hard to lie.

"You like to act so bravebutyou're too shy toeventell me your answer. Maybe you'll be braver after you've run from me. I'm going to countdown from ten. I won't wait a second longer."

Is he serious? I'm not going to wait around to find out.

"Ten…"

I jerk my head out of his grip and jump off the couch. I get tangled in the blanket as I sprint toward the living room door in the half-darkness, but I manage to fling it off me. I don't look back as I bolt down the hallway.

Hyde calls after me. "Can't hide forever, Ava."

My heart liftsfor a momentwhen I turn the corner and see the front door. Ijustneed to get out, find somewhere safe, and call the cops.

Thoughtheunfulfilled ache in my core is insisting that I might not even want to be saved. But I need to lead him away from Jackson.

I grab the handle, but the door doesn't budge. Desperation floods me as I rattle it, pushing hard against the frame. "Come on, come on…"

My stomach sinks as I abandon the front door, flying back through the house to find another exit.

There's a flash of movement to my sideandI jump, yelping in fright.

I pick another direction, down another hallway. I trip over the edge of the cream rug, slamming down onto the smooth gray floorboards. Gasping in pain, I scramble up and keep running, ignoring the ache in my right shin.

There's another flash of movement in the semi-darkness. I see the glimmer of the burgundy eye stitches on Hyde's mask.

I turn and lunge for the stairs without thinking, racing up them two at a time.When I watch horror movies,I usually roll my eyes at the screen. Don't go upstairs! There's nowhere to run if you go that way! Next time, I'll have a little more sympathy for the girls in their underwear being chased through the house by a masked psycho.

If there ever is a next time.

On thelandingI pick an open door, flinging myself inside. My chest tightens; I've led Hyde even closer to where Jackson sleeps.

I don't dare switch on a light, but my eyes slowly adjust to the near-absolute darkness. Damn it, I'm in a bathroom. It's large, but there's no easy way out.

I hear the faint echo of footsteps outside the door. I quickly step into the bathtub at the other end of the room, sliding the crisp white shower curtain closed.

I crouch down, willing myself to somehow stop breathing.

As quietly asI can, I pull the phone out of my pocket, dialing 911 and dropping the volume as low as it goes.

Ring.

The sound is taunting me.

Ring.

This is torture.

A woman's voice answers. "911, what's your emergency?"

My voice is shaking as I try to whisper the words. "There's—there's a man in this house trying to kill me."

Swish.

The shower curtain is wrenched open.

Hyde's voice hits my ears like a knife to the gut.

"Caught you."