Page 23

Connor

Ihadn’t been able to make it to the café since our run in Tuesday morning.

Some big major security breech that needed all hands-on deck at work, making me have to start earlier than usual.

At first I’d told my boss that I was in no way starting or finishing at any other time than my usual times, but he’d threatened my position.

He sat there telling me that my temper tantrum last week had already put me at risk, so refusing to be a team player would have him questioning my loyalty to my job.

I didn’t have any fucking loyalties, but I also didn’t need to be jobless in todays economy.

I had a decent sized saving account, but it would quickly be burned through without my job.

And then Joe started to demand more of my time on the evenings I wasn’t super late at work.

I was dying to be at the café, to see her, torment her.

But Joe was growing restless, word was starting to spread through town about the serial killer, making his boss an even more demanding bastard than usual.

I needed to him to believe I was working my ass off trying to find the person behind the murders, whilst also making sure he was nowhere near even considering Maxine.

I’d listen to his theories, occasionally throwing in my own that I’d come up with before discovering Max.

I ignored the guilt that ate at me every time I saw Joe, every time I saw the exhaustion in his eyes.

I pushed it deep down, as far as I possibly could.

I’d sent a bunch of flowers to Max’s apartment on Thursday with a little card placed inside the black bouquet of roses reading ‘Life is a little hectic at the moment, but I’ll be there for our date on Friday afternoon.

Don’t be late little fox – Connor.’

I’d watched her on the cameras reading the card, the way the corner of her mouth kicked up just a little.

I was furious that life was getting in the way of me seeing her in person, but the cameras kept me as sane as I could be without being near her.

She placed the bouquet in a vase on her coffee table, re-reading the note again before going and sliding it into her bedside drawer. Cute.

By the time Friday morning rolled around, I was sat at work vibrating with excitement at the thought of being back in the same room as her again.

My cock aching at the thought of dragging her home from Melinda’s and fucking her against every god damn surface of that apartment.

The day dragged so painfully slow, it was if satan himself was slowing time, purely to torture me.

But as the time rolled round, I stared at the empty seat at Melinda’s, a sense of unease creeping up my spine.

The way she had smiled at my note, there was no way she was going to stand me up – probably because she knew damn well that I would hunt her down anyway.

Yet still, she hadn’t shown.

I’d checked the app I used to track her.

[Unable to locate iPhone 7394648.]

Anxiety twisted in my gut; something was wrong.

Why couldn’t her phone be located?

After arriving back home, I loaded up the cameras history, looking at when she was last in her apartment.

She had arrived home at 12:30, heading straight into her bedroom.

I flicked onto the bedroom camera’s history, watching as she pulled out a hold-all from her closet.

She packed items quickly, stuffing them in before entering the bathroom to take a shower.

When she came out, she looked absolutely beautiful.

I sped through the footage to find when she eventually left.

2pm.

One hour and forty-five minutes before we were supposed to meet for our date.

I paced around my apartment for nearly two hours, obsessively checking my phone to see if her tracker started working again, I finally caved.

I dropped by her work, banging on the door despite the closed sign being very clearly in view.

I knew she wasn’t at home because I’d watched the cameras obsessively.

So where the fuck was she? It was almost 6pm.

She usually finished work at 3 on a Friday, arriving at Melinda’s at 3:15.

Pulling out my phone, I checked her social media again – nothing.

She’d gone dark, disappeared off-grid.

Panic surged through me, and I slammed my fist against my dashboard, still parked outside of her workplace, cursing loudly.

Why was this bothering me so much? Was it because I couldn’t see her? Was it because I was so used to being able to see ninety percent of what she was doing, that the thought of not being able to was absurd to me? I could feel myself slipping, slowly losing it.

Losing my access to her had made me lose my fucking mind.

I scoured my thoughts, scrambling for an explanation as to where she could be.

Lara always came to her apartment – Lara.

I sifted through Max’s account on instagram before I found Lara’s page.

My chest tightened as I saw her most recent post, heart hammering painfully as I opened the image.

A photo Lara and Max, posing with sunglasses perched on their heads in a car, the caption reading:

’Heading to the lake for a few days.

No signal, no worries.

Just drinks, sun, and hopefully some hot men.’

My vision went red.

Jealously surged through me, hot and furious.

The thought of Max being touched by anyone else sent violent thoughts racing through my mind.

She was mine.

Only mine.

And the thought of her being away, out of reach, with other men… I couldn’t handle it.

I scrolled through my phone furiously, searching for lakes nearby, but there was too fucking many.

And with no specific location, and zero ability to track Max, I felt utterly fucking helpless.

I arrived back at my apartment, pacing up and down trying to fight back the dark thoughts that haunted me – the sickening possibility that someone else might be getting their hands on her.

The walls seemed to close in on me, pressing tighter until I could barely breath.

I forced myself to sit down, gripping my head in my hands, breathing heavily.

It was pathetic, this obsession had grown dangerous, having me in such turmoil over the mere thought of someone else touching her.

She had truly become an addiction that I couldn’t escape, even if I wanted to.

She was every twisted desire I’d ever had, wrapped in one intoxicating woman.

My mother had abandoned me when she died, and I didn’t let it break me.

My ex-girlfriend had mocked and humiliated my needs, and I didn’t let it break me – but Max? She could break me entirely, and I would let her.

Fuck, I would beg her to break me, if it meant I saw that earth shattering smile spread across her beautiful face.

No signal.

No control.

I needed her to come back to me, only me.

And if she didn’t? If she found someone else? If she let another man near her, even for a night? I knew with absolute certainty what would happen next.

I would hunt him down, and fucking kill him, even if he made her happy, even if she begged me not to.

Because Max wasn’t just an obsession anymore, something to hunt and stalk.

She was everything, and she was mine.