Page 31 of Crown of the Mist

"Bree?" Phil's voice carries that fake concern that makes my skin crawl. "Just checking on my favorite tenant..."

My fists clench together as I hear him move through the apartment. I stay perfectly still, barely breathing, listening to his heavy footsteps draw closer to the bathroom.

The mist swirls around my feet, agitated and dark. Something that sounds like glass clinks in the main room—probably him helping himself to whatever he wants, like he has a right to be here. Like this is his space to invade.

"Breeee," he calls again, dragging out her name. "I didn’t see you come in, but I thought I heard... movement."

My fingers brush the camera in my pocket. Everything in me screams to confront him, to make him pay for every violation, every moment of fear he's caused her.

He's close now. I can smell the alcohol on himthrough the partially open door. One more step and—

His phone rings, the sound sharp and sudden in the quiet apartment. Phil curses, fumbling to answer it.

"Yeah?" Phil listens for a moment, then chuckles darkly. "Nah, she's not here Kevin. But one of those guys she hangs around with is... The pretty boy realtor...”

My jaw clenches. Her father. Of course he's still keeping tabs on her, still trying to control her life even from a distance.

“Yeah, exactly. Always trying to play hero." A pause. "Don't worry, everything's under control. She won't get far... I mean, I'll handle the lease termination properly."

The call ends. Phil's footsteps retreat, slow and deliberate, back toward the front door. That slip about not letting her leave sets off every alarm in my head. This isn't just about the apartment anymore.

The front door closes. Loudly. Too loudly.

He's letting me know he's still here. Waiting.

Phil stands just inside the doorway when I step out of the bathroom, his bulk taking up too much space in the tiny studio. Early afternoon light filters through the grimy window, castingstrange shadows across the floor. The mist follows me, curling around my feet in agitated swirls.

My eyes catch on the cracked mirror he installed by the door.Another camera angle. Bastard really did think of everything.

"Doing a final inspection?" His voice drips with fake concern, masking something uglier. "Making sure our girl left everything in order?"

Our girl.The words make me want to punch something. Preferably his face.

"Actually," I keep my voice light, casual, like we're discussing the weather, "I'm here to help Bree move out. You know how it is—heavy lifting, paperwork, all that fun stuff."

"Without notice? That's not very professional." He shifts his weight, trying to look bigger, more intimidating in the cramped space. "There are proper procedures for these things."

I smile, the kind of smile that makes most people take a step back. "Oh, I'm all about proper procedures. Like the housing authority's guidelines on tenant privacy. Their rules about surveillance." I pull the camera from my pocket, holding it up. "Pretty sure they'd be really interested in your... inspection methods."

The mask slips. Just for a second. But it's enoughto see the rage underneath, the same cruel edge I sometimes caught in Bree's father's eyes.

"Careful, pretty boy." Phil's voice drops, turns ugly. "You don't want to make enemies here. Some things are bigger than you understand."

"See, that's where you're wrong." I slip the camera back into my pocket, my smile never wavering. "I understand perfectly. I understand that you and her father thought you could keep controlling her. Keep her scared and alone." I take a step closer. "But that ends today."

His hand twitches toward his pocket. Weapon? Phone? Doesn't matter. The mist surges around my feet, and for a moment, the temperature in the room seems to drop.

"You can't protect her forever," he says, something ugly twisting beneath the words. "She belongs—"

"She belongs wherever she chooses." I cut him off, done playing nice. "And she chooses to leave. So either step aside, or I'll help you move."

We stand there, locked in a moment that stretches like wire about to snap. Part of me hopes he'll try something. Gives me an excuse to—

"Everything okay in there?" A new voice calls from the hall. Theo. Because of course he didn'tlisten when I said I'd handle it.

Phil's face twists, calculations running behind his bloodshot eyes. After a long moment, he steps back, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Just trying to be helpful," he says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Make sure everything's... proper.