Chapter 14

**Dominic’s First Move**

I dismissed it as paranoia when I first observed it.

A call to an unidentified number at the bookstore. There was utter quiet when I responded. I waited, listening for movement, for breathing, for any sign that someone was present. However, nothing was present. On the other end was nothing but a wide, empty nothingness. Telling myself it was merely a glitch, I hung up and brushed it off. A misdial. The unexpected loss of nerves by a telemarketer.

Then it occurred once again. And once more.

The calls would always arrive right before closing, when I was by myself at the store. Every time, I responded, and the smothering stillness persisted. Finally, one night, I thought I heard something, so faint that I nearly told myself it was a dream.

A murmur.

Just a word's mumble, barely audible before the line died, and unintelligible.

I knew then.

Dominic was establishing himself.

At first, I kept it a secret. Coincidence, prank calls, or perhaps my own anxiety playing games, I assured myself it was nothing. Then I noticed the truck, though.

My house was across which was the site from where it was parked. There was an old black truck, nothing unusual, just usually there. I spotted it three nights in a row, exactly around the time I closed up the bookstore and made my way home. I initially persuaded myself that it belonged to a neighbor. However, it remained still. Never moved to another location. It simply sat there, watching, idling in the darkness.

I told myself not to panic. that he wasn't the one. that it isn't possible.

Then I noticed the figure within, though.

A shadow. a presence.

The kind that made my breath catch in my throat and my skin crawl.

That night, I didn't get any sleep. I waited for the sound of footsteps outside my door while lying in bed and gazing up at the ceiling. For the sensation of air on my skin. for my present to be struck by the past like a storm I couldn't escape.

I told myself I was being silly the following morning. I had to get a handle on things. I tried to bury myself in the security of routine, went to work, and opened the bookstore.

At which point the blossoms showed up.

A bunch of immaculate, flawless white roses with one black petal nestled in the middle. No card was present. Not a particular word. The only thing waiting for me, like a silent message I couldn't ignore, were the flowers on the counter.

When I touched my hands, they shook. I understood their meaning. For innocence, white roses. purity. Love.

For something completely different, the black petal.

A pledge. A caution.

I felt like screaming, hurling them against the wall, and destroying the idea that this was anything other than a game. Dominic's match. A remembrance of his presence. that he was observing.

Books fell to the floor as I staggered back and bumped against a bookcase. My breathing was shallow and my heart was beating hard behind my ribs. I made myself move, tidy up, and act as though nothing was wrong.

However, it wasn't.

It was becoming worse.

When I eventually shut up the following night, I hesitated at the door with my keys clenched in my fist. There was nobody on the street. The truck has vanished. Nevertheless, I could feel the pressure of invisible eyes on me.

I rushed to my car and secured the doors as soon as I got in. As the engine roared to life, I let out a trembling breath and clutched the steering wheel until my knuckles became white.

My phone then rang.

The same unidentified figure. When I responded, their the same awful quiet.

However, I didn't hang up this time.

"I'm positive it's you," I mumbled as I put the phone to my ear.

Silence for a beat. Then 

A laugh.

Low. Funny. Known.

My blood became icy.

My hands were shaking so much that I nearly knocked on the phone as I hung up. My breath came in harsh, shallow gasps, and my eyesight became blurry. I compelled myself to drive, to get home, to lock the doors, and to turn on all the lights.

It didn't matter, though. Because I knew as soon as I entered my bedroom.

I wasn't alone myself.

My pulse pounded and I came to a complete stop. I looked around the room, trying to find someone or something. When I saw it, my breath caught.

A solitary white rose, arranged with care on my pillow.

And underneath it was a note in handwriting that was recognizable and exquisite.

Have you missed me?

As I stumbled back, the room began to tilt. I felt sick to my stomach and nauseous. I didn't hear him. I didn't see him.

He had been here, though.

My throat was scratched by panic. I hurried to make sure the windows and doors were locked. No evidence of forced entry was found. No glass was shattered. No commotion.

The rose, however. The message.

Dominic was in my house.

He also wanted me to be aware of it.

The air changed then.

Behind me, a floorboard creaked.

Heart hammering against my ribs, I whirled around. The scream stuck in my throat and my breath caught.

Just past the faint light from my bedside lamp, a shadow shifted.

Then a voice.

Dark, low, and intimate.

"You shouldn't have hung up, Emma."

The world shook, and I was overcome with panic when I realized 

Dominic was no longer merely observing.

He was present.