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My heart clenched, afraid for him. He didn’t deserve to live the life of a rapist, especially one that targeted children. Even if those memories weren’t his own, I remembered how Bianca’s felt as they twisted with mine. I couldn’t tell whose memories were whose until I woke up again.

‘It will take some time for him to complete the transformation. Perhaps it would be prudent to use that time to test your new strength.’ Morty’s words made sense, but that didn’t mean I wanted to hear them. The thought of leavingChance alone to go through this wasn’t an option, but it didn’t have to be.

I tore my eyes away from the swirling black mass of writhing shadows that were slowly creeping closer to Chance’s prone form, compressing around him like they were trying to tether themselves to his soul.

That was exactly what they were doing, I realised in awe.

There were no shadows obscuring Mortimer from my sight. His handsome face was bared for me to see, his strong body on full display. He was naked, his cock jutting out like an expectant friend eager to greet me after years apart. I arched a brow, amused at his offering, but that amusement quickly shrivelled up when my gaze met his.

Dark eyes bore down on me with an intensity that felt almost too much to bear. He wasn’t joking around. He wasn’t hiding behind his shadows. He was showing me exactly who he was beneath the surface.

He was offering himself to me.

I’ve brought gifts.

No, not just me. Chance may not be able to see him right now, but this offering was for the both of us. He was proving his worth, stripping himself bare and revealing himself in the most vulnerable way he could. His cock was hard, but it wasn’t begging to be touched. It was a message. A silent, beautiful declaration.

I rose, levitating higher so we were on the same level, and met his eyes with an intensity of my own. Then, I slanted my lips over his and sealed my acceptance of him with a kiss.

Chapter 19

Dakota

As soon as we were back inside his murder house, Blake and I both tried to fix our dishevelled appearances. I was able to smooth down my clothes and my hair with ease, but I couldn’t stop shaking. I felt it. Felt them. Something had happened, and Chance and Kali were involved.

I just knew.

Blake wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me to the kitchen table, where he sat me down. ‘Fuck, baby, you’re shivering. Just sit tight. I’ll put on some tea.’

I kept my eyes on him as he pulled out a kettle, filled it in the sink, then set it to boil on the stove. He pulled out two mugs and stuffed them with tea bags. They were generic black things that mirrored the complete lack of emotion he had so successfully hidden until now.

Everything in this place was just… off, like something wasn’t right. It was like the house itself was whispering its secrets, angry at how deeply it had been desecrated by the evil residing within. Like it, too, wanted justice.

When Blake had first called, I hadn’t picked up. I’d panicked and dropped my phone, cracking the screen in the process, but I didn’t care. That was fixable. Blake wasn’t. Mikey had beenthe one to calm me down yet again, then he’d convinced me to contact the police and clue them in. Rhodes had mentioned that the first officer who had spoken to him, Detective DeLuca, was the one who was looking into Blake, that he was taking this investigation seriously. The other officers were merely called out to the scene and hadn’t found anything, which wasn’t helpful. They needed someone on the inside to get them the evidence they required to put him away.

So, I’d called Detective DeLuca with the number Rhodes had been given, and we’d set up a meeting. He came over to the house, and the four of us sat down together to discuss what to do next. DeLuca had informed us that his partner had received a mysterious note that had appeared out of nowhere on her desk, and that he hadn’t heard from her since she decided to look into it. The general consensus was that Blake either had her or he had killed her when he realised she was onto him. If she was still alive, action needed to be taken soon before that changed.

That was when we’d come up with a plan. I needed to keep up the pretence of a spurned wife, but give him hope that we could fix our marriage before it fell into shambles. I would keep an eye out for anything suspicious, search for any sign of where he could be keeping the women he took. Or where he killed them. Detective DeLuca suspected he would be using the same space for both.

He sat beside me when I called Blake back and instructed me on what to say and what to do, and when Blake invited me over to his secret murder house, I reluctantly agreed.

The only thing that kept one foot moving in front of the other was that this wasn’t just about me. I was in danger, and Blake needed to be behind bars where he couldn’t hurt anyone else, but it was more than that. It was justice for Kali. For Chance. For all those women he had kidnapped and murdered, stealing them from their loved ones forever.

It was those thoughts that gave me the strength to keep going, to see this through.

What I hadn’t expected was howhardit was. Obviously, I knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, but I hadn’t anticipated how it would feel. Iwasangry with Blake. My heart was broken, smashed into a million pieces that I knew would never be whole again. There were too many shards, the puzzle too great to ever complete.

But what hurt the most was how much I wanted to believe him. When he explained why he had the house and why he’d kept it a secret, it all sounded so simple, so believable, and I had almost caved. But then I saw her again. It was just a glimpse, a reflection in the glass of a picture frame hanging on the wall behind Blake’s head, but she wasright there.

It brought everything back into startling clarity, and I pulled up my big girl panties and did what needed to be done. Now, sitting at the table while he fetched me some tea because he thought I was cold, my heart clenched again. Grief threatened to consume me. Rage roared inside my veins. It was all a fucking lie, and I hated that I still loved him.

It wasn’t something I could turn off at the top of a hat. And, unfortunately, those feelings brought a desire to bury my head in the sand, to ignore everything I had learned and pretend that everything was normal. That he loved me.

But I’d seen that dead look in his eyes. His smile might have reached them on a surface level, but now that I knew where to look and what to look for, there was no hiding the cold, deademptinesshe hid inside.

This was a man who did not feel. It was a mask. An act. A character he played.

My husband wasn’t real.