Chapter 141: 38| Phantom-1

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Phantom ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ : Phantom (Dante's POV) We left much earlier than we should have, only to return later with backup, despite Ethan still missing. A sinking feeling settled into the pits of my stomach the moment Anastasia and I entered that basement, and my instincts were screaming at me to get us out of there, so I did. I couldn't decipher what haunted me more, being back in that dingy old basement where my entire life took a turn for the worst or seeing Anastasia painted on practically every canvas until not an inch of space in that room was left untouched by the ghost of her. It left me feeling uneasy. Although Ethan's motives were still unclear, one thing was rather evident; he was completely obsessed with Anastasia. Whether it was a thirst for revenge or lust that was fueling him, he was completely enamored by her. It explained why he never tried to do anything to her whenever he met her and why he kept an eye on her. The only question still left unanswered was: Why was he killing people? He became a serial killer over the span of a few months, and surely, it wasn't for no reason. None of the victims were connected to him or his dead father. Was it just… a publicity stunt? To get Anastasia's attention? An exhausted sigh escaped Anastasia as we entered our hotel room for the night, and while I flicked the lights on, she collapsed on the bed. Locking the door behind me for good measure, I walked ahead and dropped to sit beside her. She came up a second later and looked me straight in the eye. "Dante," she said, "I don't think we have any idea what we're doing anymore." I held her gaze while twirling the keycard between my fingertips. "This…" she groaned in frustration as she shook her head. "This whole case has unraveled, and we just can't seem to get it under control. "Too many people have died, and every time it feels like we're getting closer to solving it, we hit a dead-end. I've never dealt with something like this before. It's exhausting me." "I know it's tough," I told her, "but we're so close, Anastasia. We have to push through. Every killer leaves incriminating evidence behind sooner or later. It's just a matter of time before we catch him." "Do you think he wants to be caught?" "No killer wants to be caught, Mia Cara." She sighed again, "I don't know… I have a feeling he might." It dawned on me as she began to pace before my eyes. "No," I said slowly, "surely you're not thinking of talking him into surrendering." "Why not? It could work. That is if we get our fucking hands on him." "There is no way in hell I'm leaving you alone with him even for a second," I breathed out. "It's too dangerous." Running a frustrated hand through her hair, she huffed out, "Okay. Let's drop it. We'll talk tomorrow if they find any evidence tonight." Leaving agents behind to investigate tonight was our final shot at gathering evidence from Ethan's residence. If we came up empty-handed, we'd be back to square one. But evidence would only get us so far. We already had enough to charge Ethan. The problem was locating him. "Let's just go to bed," she mumbled, unzipping her bag and pulling out a set of pajamas. "We'll figure it out," I said, rising to my feet, "we always do." She paused, staring up at me. Leaning in, I left a soft kiss on her lips. "Go ahead and change; I'll wait out here," I said, pulling back. The day had been mentally and physically draining, so after getting changed and ordering room service for dinner, we got ready for bed and crashed almost instantly. In the middle of the night, with my arm still securely draped around Anastasia, I woke up to the faint buzzing of my cell phone on the nightstand. Groaning faintly, I rolled over and grabbed hold of it, squinting at the screen as the phone continued incessantly ringing in my hand. Answering, I held it to my ear and quietly said, "Hello?" There was a brief pause, no longer than a second, before the call disconnected altogether. I would have dismissed it, but as I rolled back over to set my phone down, I heard heavy footsteps just outside the door. Holding still with bated breath, my heart began racing. A faint sound reached me, as if something was slipped under the door, and a split second after that, the footsteps retreated. I waited, completely frozen for several seconds before hesitantly leaving Anastasia's side and moving to the door. As I suspected, a small card had been delivered beneath the door. Fuck's sake. Picking it up, I read the single line scribbled onto it in cursive, a distinct swoop at the bottom of each letter. It simply read: Meet me by the bridge. Unarmed, Mr Rossi. The hotel was no longer than a two-minute walk from the Hudson River Way bridge. An agitated breath escaped me as I ran a hand over my mouth, glancing back at where Anastasia slept peacefully. It was a terrible idea to leave her alone. The fear would wreck me if I didn't know for certain that she'd be safe behind my back. "Fuck," I muttered under my breath. I knew she had her gun tucked beneath her pillow just like I had mine, I knew she hid her knife in the first drawer of the nightstand, and I knew if something happened, she wouldn't think twice before blindly grabbing the lamp and smashing it over the head of whoever tried to touch her without warning. But the thought of leaving her alone, unguarded… made me nervous. Grabbing my t-shirt off the chair in the corner of the room, I tugged it over my head, grabbed my phone and keycard, and pocketed them both. I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob for another minute but with a deep breath, I pulled it open and left. I knew Anastasia better than anybody. I was confident in her abilities to protect herself. She was vulnerable being asleep, but a sense of security enveloped me despite the nerves. She'll be safe. I know it. He can't hurt her. I walked out of the hotel and crossed the street, making my way to the bridge as it lit up in the darkness of the night. Despite it being nearly three in the morning, the streets were not empty, with a few people strolling on the sidewalk, but when I got to the bridge, not a soul was crossing it. Lamps dimly lit up the entire length of it, and warily, with a glance over my shoulder, I began to cross it. My feet stopped moving beneath me as I reached the middle and spotted him.