17. The Shadow

THE SHADOW

S omeone was stalking Ava. And it wasn’t me.

A few times I noticed another presence when I was watching her. A shadow that appeared too much like a silhouette, slipping away before I could identify them.

At first, I chalked it up to my intense paranoia.

But now I knew.

And it was time to make sure he knew that I was the only one allowed to stalk her.

I was the only one allowed to touch her.

Ava was mine .

The Darkmoor Times office was dark except for the glow from the state-of-the-art computers of the main open-plan newspaper office.

I moved quietly toward the corner office, the only office with a light still on inside, listening for footsteps that would alert me to someone coming.

With what I was here to do, I did not want to get caught .

I stopped in front of the frosted pane door at the very end of the high-ceilinged room, careful not to step into the light and alert the person inside with my silhouette.

I leaned my ear to the door. The dramatic sounds of Wagner’s Twilight of the Gods filtered through the oak.

Figures that this self-important prick would listen to this.

I slowly turned the handle in my gloved hand, surprised to find it unlocked. I’d brought along picks but I didn’t need them.

I swung the door open.

Cormac’s high-backed leather chair spun around from behind his large mahogany executive desk. “You’re la—”

“Really? I thought I was right on time,” I said, closing the door behind me and stepping into his office.

The stench of entitlement oozed from the rich, dark wood paneling, the polished antique globe sitting like some relic of a past life, and the perfectly manicured potted plants—it all screamed old money.

Everything in here, from the ornate bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes with uncracked spines to the gold-framed front pages hanging on the walls, was designed to show off, to remind everyone how important he was.

I could feel Cormac’s smug presence in every overdone detail. This wasn’t just an editor’s office—it was his little kingdom.

Cormac’s face registered surprise before his features morphed into a sneer. “ You. ”

“Might want to lock your doors.” I took the chair opposite his and propped my muddy boots up on the corner of his desk. “Who knows what kind of psychos are running around.”

“What are you doing here?” Cormac asked as he eyed me warily.

I noted the open bottle of 25-year-old Macallan sitting by his elbow and the second glass of whiskey. He was waiting for someone, it seemed.

I snatched the untouched glass of whiskey and threw back the entire shot before he could protest.

The velvety liquid tasted smooth, woody and sweet with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, leaving a lingering and pleasant oaky aftertaste.

Damn. It was the good shit. I knew for a fact that bottle would have cost up to three thousand euros.

Hmm. The asshole had taste.

Cormac didn’t say a word; he just fussed with something under the desk.

I slammed the glass down, smacking my lips like a heathen. “I’m afraid your little panic button has been disconnected. Campus tech is so unreliable, isn’t it?”

Cormac froze and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

That’s right, asshole. No one from campus security was coming.

Cormac crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his brown leather chair. “What the hell do you want?”

I smiled. Now we were getting somewhere.

“I want you to stop following Ava.”

“Please.” He let out a snort. “I’m done with that dumb bitch. ”

I snatched the empty crystal glass and threw it at his head.

He barely moved his head out of the way in time, the glass shattering on the award and plaque covered wall behind him.

Cormac hissed, ducking as he was showered with pieces of glass. “What the fuck, man?”

“Call Ava a bitch again,” I said, my voice seething, “and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

He lifted his hands. “Fine. Alright. Fuck.”

I let out a calming breath and settled back into my chair, folding my gloved fingers over my front. “As I was saying, you won’t touch her again. You won’t even go near her. And that means you stop stalking her.”

Cormac frowned. “I’m not stalking her.”

I rubbed my fingers over my eyebrows. “You might think that watching her from outside her window is foreplay, but—”

“I’ve never watched her from outside her window, you freak.” Cormac shook glass out of his hair and fixed up the wayward strands in a mirror the egomaniac kept on his desk.

He was lying.

The only thing I hated more than entitled rich pricks were entitled rich pricks who lied to me.

I gripped the arms of the chair till my fingers hurt. “Stay away from Ava.”

Cormac cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Your possessiveness isn’t going to keep her. I give it two months before she’s bored with you.”

He didn’t stand a chance. The vintage fountain pen on display was in my fist before he could even register what was going on.

I stabbed it through the back of his hand, pinning him to the desk.

I saw the shock register on his face first, a moment of disbelief before the pain hit. His eyes widened, mouth opening slightly as his brain tried to catch up with what had just happened.

Then he began to scream as he stared at the gruesome sight with white-rimmed pupils, blood pooling with black ink, dribbling out of his pale hand onto the moss-green leather desktop.

His other hand instinctively went to the wound, pressing against it like he could somehow stop the bleeding with sheer willpower.

“The next time I see you anywhere near Ava,” I said, pointing a finger into his face, “it goes through your heart. You understand?”

He yanked out the pen with his free hand and screamed some more as he gripped his bleeding hand, the color draining from his face.

The fucker wasn’t listening to me.

I would make him listen.

I grabbed his collar and yanked him over the executive desk. He slammed down onto the floor like a rag doll.

I pinned him with a knee against his throat and flicked out one of the many knives I kept on my person.

This one was short, thin, and wicked sharp.

I’d named her Arya Stark.

Haha. Get it ?

I brandished Arya in his face, loving the way the soft lighting made her glint.

“Do. You. Understand?” I said again.

See, I gave him a second chance to answer me. He could hardly complain that I was being impulsive.

His body thrashed against me, but the only sounds that came from him was that annoying high-pitched screaming.

“Let me make you understand.”

There was nothing he could do to stop me as I began to carve out a specific piece of him.

His body thrashed and bucked on the floor, his legs flailing, kicking the chair I’d sat in across the room.

But I had him pinned.

His lips grew bloodless and he stopped struggling as he passed out.

Finally. A little peace and quiet while I worked.

I leaned over him like a surgeon and I worked Arya to the bone. Attachments snapped. Blood splattered my cheek in hot, wet droplets.

I heard a wet pop and the offending body part came loose and I pulled it away.

I sat back on my heels, wiping the back of my hand over my sweaty forehead, admiring my nice clean incision. He could hardly complain that I’d butchered him.

I slapped Cormac’s cheek, hard.

He muttered, rolling his head.

“Wake up.” I smacked him again, even harder.

He woke with a gasp.

Before he could start screaming, I held the piece of him over his face. “Look at her again and I’ll take the other one.”

He began to scream again as he clutched at the raw wound I’d left him, blood dribbling out between his fingers. “What the fuck? What the fuck did you do?”

I delivered a message, that’s what I did.

I felt no regret at all. I was prepared to punish any man who looked in Ava’s direction.

In fact, I wanted to cut more out of Cormac, stake out more of my territory. Carve Ava’s name and mine all over his body so he’d never forget whom she belonged to.

But I had to leave this asshole alive.

Ava wouldn’t like it if I killed him.

And besides, leaving bodies was messy. Bodies meant questions and police stomping around the place, kicking things over and messing up my plans.

I fucking hated self-control.

I wiped Arya on his pant leg and resheathed her. I held Cormac’s little gift in my gloved hand as I stood and turned to leave.

“You’ll pay for that,” Cormac’s screeching voice called out after me.

I stopped at the doorway, swinging the body part I’d taken from him in my fingers like it was a set of keys.

I glanced back at him, lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, blood all over his cream Brooks Brothers sweater, and scoffed.

“Oh no. You’re terrifying,” I mocked with my free hand on my heart. “I’m terrified.”

To my utter surprise, Cormac laughed. “You should be. This is bigger than you could imagine.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

I shoved my skittering fear away. He was just posturing. Flinging meaningless insults at me .

“Try not to bleed out before the ambulance gets here.”

I pushed open the door, ready to disappear into the night, safe in the knowledge that I’d hacked all the security cameras in the area so that Cormac wouldn’t have any hard evidence against me.

But the last thing Cormac said to me curdled my blood.

“You can’t protect her. ”