CHAPTER 71
I bury my face in the thick fabric of his hoodie, fists clenched, holding on like it’ll keep me from drowning.
He doesn’t say anything.
Just holds me.
Lets me fall apart without judgment.
The tears slow eventually, but my mind doesn’t.
It runs in jagged, vicious loops, pulling up things I can’t seem to shut off.
Of course, my first thought goes to Roger.
The way his hand cradled my jaw. The way his breath brushed my lips.
The ache to close the distance and taste him.
The wish that it was him who walked through my door.
Instead—I’m in the arms of another man.
Another predator.
Another danger.
And I want him too.
I feel his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek, steady, unbothered.
The urge to tilt my head and find his mouth hits hot and sharp, twisting my stomach.
I’ve seen his lips—twice—just enough to haunt me.
Enough to wonder what they’d feel like: hard and claiming, or slow and devastating.
I should hate him.
I should scream, run, call for help—anything but lean in closer.
But I crave him. Crave what he makes me feel.
The realization cuts deep, carving away the last of the girl who thought she could be normal.
Who thought she was still whole.
Dexter trots over and plops down at my feet, tail wagging half-heartedly.
He bumps my ankle with his head and whines when I ignore him.
It dawns on me that Dexter doesn’t growl anymore.
He trusts the masked man like he belongs here.
The realization hits like a punch.
He’s been here while I’m gone.
Often.
Maybe always.
Maybe long before I ever caught the first shiver of awareness.
“Do you come here when I’m not home?”
My voice barely breaks the silence.
He nods. Once.
Unbothered.
My stomach flips.
The questions tumble out, sharp and frantic.
“Why?”
Silence.
“When did it start?”
Nothing.
“How do you get past the alarm?”
Still nothing.
He just watches me with that same unshakable patience—like he’s waiting for me to catch up.
The silence is suffocating.
It presses down on me until my skin itches, my heart hammers, my composure cracks.
He’s building a wall between us and something in me snaps.
The anger bubbling under my skin finally has a target.
“Leave,” I snap. “I don’t want you here.”
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t speak.
Just watches—steady, maddening—like he already knows how this ends.
“Go,” I say again, shoving against him.
It’s like trying to move an oak tree.
“I mean it. Get out.”
Still nothing.
Still calm, while I’m coming apart at the seams.
Hot, angry tears blur my vision. Furious drops slide down my cheeks, making it worse.
I push him again, fists landing on his chest, desperate for a reaction.
He doesn’t flinch so I shove harder.
He stays rooted like I’m a stiff breeze against a hurricane.
“Why won’t you leave?” I scream, my voice breaking, throat raw from everything I can’t say.
He moves—quick and sure.
Grabs my wrists. Not hurting, just steady.
He walks me back until my spine hits the wall, the coolness slicing through the heat radiating off me.
He cages me there, breathing slow and steady while I gasp like I’m drowning.
“Stop it,” he says, low and rough. “Stop fighting everything. Stop thinking so goddamn much and just surrender.”
His voice vibrates through me, rattling something loose.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Do whatever the fuck you want, Paty,” he rasps, crowding closer. “Just stop running from it.”
The walls I’ve held up all night finally crack.
I tilt my head up, chest rising in shallow gasps.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
Not a plea.
A dare.
A broken challenge tossed between us like a lit match.
He doesn’t answer right away.
Just holds my gaze, like he’s making sure I know what I’m asking for.
Then he steps closer.
My heart stutters.
He cups my face in his hands, thumbs stroking my cheeks with an almost unbearable gentleness.
“You’ll behave?”
I nod, my face flushed.
He glances past me, grabs a bandana from the coatrack.
He turns me gently, my shoulder brushing the wall, and slides the fabric over my eyes.
Darkness swallows everything, forcing me to feel instead of see.
Another sound—the faint slide of fabric again—and I know he’s removing the balaclava.
His bare hands lift mine.
He presses my palm to his mouth making me gasp.