Chapter 4

Cyrus

I frowned when I got my motion sensor alert in my house. It was strange because the burglar alarm hadn't gone off. I flicked through the various cameras in my house, trying to control my feelings of rage at the breach of my privacy in my own home. When I couldn't find anyone through the cameras, I grabbed my keys until I remembered my hidden back room. I sank back into my chair when I saw a figure dressed in all black in my kill room. The person wore a balaclava over their face, but as I zoomed in on the individual, I realised from the height and build that it was a woman. When I analysed the curves carefully, I decided it was most definitely a woman.

She slid her hand along my table before she walked towards my knife roll bag. Her nimble, gloved hand unbuckled it and spread out my knives. This was my worst nightmare which had come back to haunt me.

Is this how I would get caught? Who the fuck was she?

I couldn't take my eyes off the screen, off the woman who could destroy me.

I took a shaky breath as she lifted out my knife and ran her fingertip along the blade. She removed a few others but carefully put each one back in its correct place until she got to the last one, which she stuffed into the small bag she wore across her body. Once she had stopped fingering the rest of my knives, she went straight for my fridge and began to read the labels of all the drugs I used on my victims for the various parts in abduction and torture.

Whoever she was, she knew my secret, but what sort of a woman would enter my home knowing this?

She was on her own, so she couldn't be part of law enforcement; they would need a search warrant, and that would accompany a large team of people. I held my breath as she opened up my cabinet full of masks. She took my favourite black one and stuffed it into her bag before she walked towards my camera and pulled off her balaclava. Masses of long dark hair tumbled out, but it was her dark eyes that held my attention. She looked young, too young to be in a lion's den.

"Do you want to play with me, Cyrus?" she asked mischievously with a small smile on her plump lips.

She knew my name.

I tore my eyes away from the screen and ran out of my office, ignoring my hardening dick and the shocked looks from my employees as I rushed past them.

Play with her? I wanted to bend her over my desk and fuck the living daylights out of her after I beat her ass black and blue for putting herself in a dangerous situation.

I shook my head in confusion at the thought. I was a loner and never contemplated any emotional attachment with women. The way she had touched my knives, though, it made my cock throb again. My mind raced as I climbed into my car. She had an accent. My mind was jumbled as I tried to place the accent. She was British, not American.

I frowned as I drove out of my car park with my tyres screeching and cars blaring their horns at me as I pulled out in front of them. It was the fastest journey home I'd ever made. Part of me knew she wouldn't be there when I got home, but I had to try.

The house was empty, and I checked my kill room but the items she took were no longer in their rightful place. The little minx was nowhere to be found. I went through all the footage and saw she had been on my laptop for a good hour and a half prior to my sensors picking her up. I couldn't make sense of how she got in without the alarms going off or how she avoided the sensors in the hallway and staircase. Her taking my mask was a problem because it had been reported during one of my pick-ups. The missing knife was worse because it could have my fingerprints on it, and trace DNA of my victims might be on it.

Since Jake, there had been three others, but I'd lain low for the last few weeks because of my masked face being reported close to one of the kills.

"Fuck!" I said through clenched teeth before I took a long, deep breath to calm myself and found printed off her face because that's all I had to go with.

I didn't think she would report me to the police, but she could try to blackmail me. I winced at the thought of killing a woman, but if she was going to try and fuck me over, then I would be left with little choice. What my dick wanted to do to her was irrelevant.

**

I got nowhere searching for my minx, but one week later, the majority of my crimes were pinned onto my next target. An FBI Agent Vale had led the investigation, but after watching the few questions he'd answered during the press conference, he certainly wasn't the mastermind behind it. It was Director Chavez who stated that a young lady had helped the FBI to find the serial killer. When the press asked for her name he declared that she was loaned to the agency and her name would not be divulged.

She had taken items from most of my kills and planted them on a fifty-two-year-old murdering paedophile. I had a strong suspicion it was why she took my knife and mask.

She wasn't a foe, but was she a friend?

I linked my fingers together and cracked my fingers. It was time to access the FBI files again. I hope my little minx was ready to play because I sure as fuck was.