Page 67 of Carved Obsession

There’s only one other feeling that compares to the marvelous sense of achievement brought on by stealing something someone’s going to be so unbelievably pissed about losing, and that’s watching pain fall in streams of tears out of an asshole’s eyes.

That particular feeling is unique. Unbeatable. And disturbingly esoteric.

“Damn. Nine minutes and fifty-something seconds.” Dad shakes his head, scoffing with a smile on his lips. “I’m going to have to learn what a unicorn cake is, aren’t I?”

I jump up and down like a lunatic with my hands in the air before I bow in mock acceptance of his unspoken praise.

“Time to go.” I spin on my heels to head to my car.

The adrenaline wave I’m riding is exhilarating, and I revel in it as we head out of town to end our mission.

We have a good deed to do.

Chapter 18

Carter

I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve been surprised in all my conscious years, and I’ll still have fingers left.

What I’m witnessing currently is one of those moments. And potentially the most surprising of them all.

Because Miss Scarlet Brasa-Glass currently jumps like a madwoman—a painfully fascinating, stunning madwoman—with what I can only presume is the Baldvain sacrificial dagger clutched in her hand.

Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus . . .

“She stole it,” I whisper to myself, watching from within the shadows of the forest as she hands the dagger to her father and heads back to her car.

This impromptu trip has been surreal, to say the least.

After I dropped off Maddox, I was about to rush to my house, but I had to pause and remind myself that Scarlet has been messing with my mind, clouding it, masterfully switching my attention and turning me rash. I opened that link once more and confirmed my suspicion. The video was a recording. A recent one, judging by the lack of light streaming through the windows.

I changed my route to Scarlet’s house in an instant. Just as I was setting off, the spy-cam app alerted me to movement. The wretched little kitten was strutting inside her bedroom, all sunshine and butterflies as she turned on the music and started dancing around as she undressed. She was already hypnotizing me with her swaying hips, arms high above her head as she moved to a rhythm I didn’t even register.

I couldn’t keep watching. Not when I knew breaking into my home, again, and stealing from me prompted the excitement.

Speed limits became guidance as I drove through Queenscove, toward her house. I was fucking ready to confront the kitten.

Only, even the best laid plans don’t work out. By the time I parked behind her property and scaled the wall, her car was following another out of her drive. I didn’t debate it as I went after them, following at a healthy distance.

When they finally reached their destination in Cranwick, the wealthy part of town with expensive mansions spaced far apart, I hid in the woodland shadows that surround the property. It’s then that I realized Scarlet was with her father. The confusion grew, but I had a feeling all my questions would be answered soon.

She was so excited as she expertly broke into someone’s garden. A secure place, too. The itch to follow her and learn more burned deep, but I couldn’t. I kept an eye out while researching the property owner on my phone, trying to figure out why she’s here.

Things started falling into place when I discovered it’s Randy Wayne’s house. I’ve heard of him. He’s a wannabe interloper, dealing in hard drugs at a medium scale, but that’s not the reason why the man reached my radar—that Baldvain dagger is.

The one Scarlet is currently holding proudly in her delicate hands as she jumps around after rushing out of the man’s estate.

A precious, ancient artifact from the Bronze Age. A sacrificial blade used by the Baldvain civilization, lost over a hundred years ago. The ruby on its hilt is worth more than some people can fathom, but the whole dagger itself is priceless in cultural value.

Wayne bought it for millions on the black-market, after it was randomly found in a storage unit. Then the fucking idiot made the mistake of bragging about it.

It’s irrelevant now, because it looks like he’s no longer its owner.

Watching Scarlet victoriously celebrate stealing the blade from this idiot gives me a strange sense of satisfaction and uneasy anticipation.

As she and her father climb back into their cars, I run back to mine and follow them once again, trying to keep a healthy distance now that the night has grown quieter.

After about twenty minutes of driving, we stop once more. This time, not in the expensive suburbs or the outskirts, but right in the center of the next town over. I park in the shadows, tucked around the corner where I can still get a view of their cars.