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Because I’ve already fucked it up for her. I’ve already taken away her option to choose everything she wants.
Clearly.
She hates me. I know she does. She was only able to have sexwith me like we did if she was pretending, and that hurts like hell.
I hate myself for taking the chance when I saw it.
When she told me she wanted me to pretend, it fucking killed me.
But I did it anyway.
I waited until she fell asleep to tell her that it wasn’t pretend for me. That it was real.
That everything we did, was something I wanted.
And something that I took from her.
I don’t have a real chance with Roisin, because even though she’s good at pretending, I know she hates me.
How could she not, after everything I’ve done?
Quietly, I get up out of the bed. I close the door to the bathroom, quietly getting into the shower. I don’t want to scrub Roisin off of me, but I need to get myself together.
I need to figure out what the fuck to do.
When I get out, my phone is lit up. I open it, noting that there’s an email from what looks like a spam account. I almost don’t open it, until another one comes in right after from the same address.
Cautiously, hoping that every technological advance I’ve done on my phone works and that I don’t have to worry about a virus coming through, I open the email.
Give me the fucking girl.
There’s nothing else. Not in the first email.
The second one, however, makes my heart stop.
It’s a picture of Roisin and me. It’s from the train station on the way to Italy, but it’s recent enough that it makes my nerves go into overdrive.
It’s also security camera footage. Meaning they either own the camera, or they hacked it, and either way, it sends a clear message.
Whoever the fuck this is, they can follow us. Monitor us.
And we have no idea how.
A third email pops up, and I click on it instantly. It’s a coordinate, and when I click on it, it brings me to an address.
In Vienna.
Ice creeps down my spine.
Vienna is somewhat of a no-man’s land when it comes to my world. It’s a semi-neutral place, with its own families that run the crime scene, but it’s an uneasy truce that keeps a balance. It’s where a lot of the Eastern European families and the rest of us can find some common ground, because the city’s own gangs are protective of the space, to the point where they don’t allow any unsanctioned business.
Which means that whoever this is, they either know that…
Or they’re to blame.
I fire off a quick text to Sal, just asking him who we know in Vienna. He quickly tries to video chat me, and I ignore the call.
Roisin is still asleep.