Page 103 of From Hell

“I’d love to see you try,” I sneer back, letting him see in my eyes just how psychotic I can be.

The fucker recoils, fear sliding into his eyes as he looks up. “You’re the Ripper.”

I run a hand through my hair and slowly take my jacket off. If I can kill him, I’m going to beat him to fucking pulp for touching what’s mine.

“Yes, I’m the fucking Ripper,” I say with a carnal smile, rolling up my sleeves, drawing out a thin blade that could flay the skin off his fucking face for even thinking he had a right to look at her.

Just don’t kill him, my keeper reminds me. Always fucking supervising.

“I won’t…fucking killjoy,” I mutter. But I’ll make him pay.

Maybe after, I’ll use this fuckers blood to write my little bird a letter. Sharing never crossed my mind or his before this. It’s interesting how much Jaxon keeps from me when he wants to. But I don’t want to fucking share.

If you let her live, I’ll let you have it all.

“I already do.” What more can Jaxon give me? I bare my teeth in the dark, stalking toward the fucker as he tries to get to his feet. Pages of my letters spill out all over the wet pavement. He starts to run. The first thing I will do is slice the backs of his heels so he fucking can’t.

I’ll give you full control.

Considering Jaxon’s proposal, I stop hunting Addison, letting the prick run a few yards into the darkness. I’ll get him soon enough.

“You won’t like what I do.”

I don’t give a fuck, as long as she’s safe.

“And if I fuck her?”

A pause.I won’t interfere.

37

LAINE

Imove through the hospital like I’m moving through water.

Jack came to work. Not in a Maybach. In his own car, the Aston Martin. I followed him in and watched as he left it beside my mother’s car in the staff parking lot.

Moving and breathing aren’t easy all of a sudden, but I manage both enough to get me to where my mind has flown. If Jack is my killer, I need to keep track of him until I can figure out what to do, which shouldn’t be hard given that there is only one ending to this…

I need to kill him before he kills me.

Inside the hospital, relief washes over me when I see the familiar figure of my mother, black hair pulled back into a twisted bun as she works at her desk. I consider going inside but decide against it. She hasn’t seen me yet, and I’m not in the right mood to handle her. But at least she’s safe.

Maybe I was being rash, worrying about my mother. The man tormenting me all these years has never threatened my family. I tread along the white-walled corridor, breathing in the scent of antiseptic, reading the signs to the varying departments as I pass. Only when I get to cardiology does the adrenaline spiking through my veins ramp up a notch.

I should confront him and demand an explanation outright. Why try to kill me and then try to protect me? After all this time. It doesn’t make sense.

He’s in surgery. I know because a passing nurse told me. At first, I stand outside his office, my body limp, my brain a mess. Then I use my mother’s pass to go inside. I never returned it to her, so it’s handy now to spy on Jaxon.

Jaxon’s office is pristine, just like I remember. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Evidence that he’s the one who’d written and sent that last letter. A clue as to when and how he burned down my home. I find nothing—a few notebooks, paperwork that needs filing, his suit jacket hanging up in the closet, and a set of house keys.

I take the keys, relock the office, and hurry to a quiet part of the hospital, a back staircase that no one uses unless the elevators are out. I call Nola.

“You need to treat him like all the others,” she says.

I gnaw my lower lip, considering what she’s saying. “I don’t have any proof yet.”

“Isn’t the fact you caught him red-handed in your house proof enough?”