Page 43 of Killaney Blood

I move deeper into the store, turning down the cereal aisle, then peek around the end cap.

I catch his face as he scans the store, looking for me.

My fingers grip the phone in my pocket, then hesitate. What am I gonna do? Who am I going to call? Declan?

He wouldn't care.

I force myself to move calmly to the register, paying for my unnecessary groceries with shaking hands. The young cashier bags my items, completely oblivious.

"Is there a back exit?" I ask quietly.

She looks confused but points toward a hallway. "Through there, past the bathrooms. It leads to the alley, but it's kind of gross."

"Thanks," I say, grabbing my bags and heading that way.

The alley is narrow and damp, smelling of urine.

I hide behind a dumpster and wait, keys between my fingers like claws.

I wait.

Ten seconds.

Thirty.

A minute.

Nothing.

No one comes through the door after me.

Maybe I imagined it.

My brain starts thinking it wasn't anyone I've seen before. It's happened, twice.

Maybe I'm still so fucked up I see monsters everywhere, but I'd rather feel paranoid than stupid.

I hurry home, taking a winding route, doubling back twice to make sure I'm not being followed. By the time I reach my building, I've convinced myself it was just my mind playing tricks. Lack of sleep. Stress. The old fears. Still, my heart won't slow down.

I round the corner to my hallway, keys still in hand, and freeze.

Declan.

He's leaning against my door, arms crossed over his chest, his black jacket still damp from the weather outside. His face is firm, but his eyes burn when they meet mine.

"Seriously?" I say, moving forward again, refusing to show how he startled me.

"You didn't answer," he says, moving away from my door. "Figured maybe you forgot who pays you."

I walk past him, close enough that my shoulder brushes against him, and jam my key into the lock.

"Who paid me, remember? I'm done," I say, pushing the door open. "Now, I'm just ignoring you."

I try to slam the door in his face, but his foot shoots out, catching it before it closes. He shoves it open, and I stumble back a step.

"Get the fuck out of my space," I say, grocery bags still dangling from my arm.

"Not until we talk," he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.