Page 40 of On Edge

“Oh?” She cocks her head, waiting, with that knowing look that says she sees right through me.

I glance around the kitchen and then back at the woman who knew me before all of this, who still doesn’t take any of my bullshit. “I think she’s crying.” Iknowshe’s crying. I saw her on one of the security cameras right before I started packing.

“Ah. You want me to console her? Take her a cup of tea, perhaps?”

I give a curt nod.

There’s a faint smile on her lips. She doesn’t have to say what that smile means.“You like this one.”

I don’t like anyone.

But she’s still bloody smiling.

“Just stop her crying and get her on that boat.”

“Tears scare you, do they?” She pats my arm like I’m still twelve. “Off with you then. And Troy? Try not to off anyone I’d miss.”

I frown at her, and she opens her mouth to say something else, but I turn and leave abruptly. I’m not going to stay to natter with the woman.

It’s only when I’m on the boat, engine rumbling beneath me, that the dark whisper under my skin eases. It’s just a touch, but it’s enough to remind me what normal felt like, if I’d ever known it. Most of the time, all I can think about, day and night, is spilling blood, feeling it calm the storm inside me. But the last few days, just as the urge sharpens…

She slips in.

Automatically, I reach for my phone to see how she’s doing.

My hand falters. I shouldn’t be watching her. I stalked her on the security cameras all morning—such a waste of my time. Every minute I spend on these feeds is another minute I’m losing control. This girl is making me obsessive, weak.

Mundel is right.

I can’t seem to look away even when I need to.

The boat glides as I steer it, cutting through the water until I reach the shore. Quickly, I get out, tie up, and then head straight to my cabin. When I open the door, Ben bounds out, jumping up at me and trying to lick me to death. I rub his ears, speaking in a low voice.

Being around her, just like it was with Nell, brings back what it felt like to want something other than blood and revenge. And the thought of her falling, of her dying before I’m done with her, made something primal and possessive come to life inside me.Desperate to taste her fear again and have her make that delicious moan.

I don’t need that.

Not now, I’m so close.

Ben tenses,spotting deer in the clearing—a doe and her fawn. Both easy kills, the kind of target I’m supposed to be hunting out here. Ben strains against my grip, every muscle coiled to chase. The doe’s eyes meet mine for a split second, wide and terrified, protective of the fawn stumbling beside her on too-long legs. I know that look. I’ve seen it on Sage’s face.

Just like when I caged her in that chair.

The deer bound into the trees, white tails flashing. I yank Ben back. He whines, confused why we’re not hunting.

“Down, boy. Not this one.”

What’s wrong with me? I should be able to kill a goddam deer without seeingherface. Without remembering how she looked up at me, shaking but refusing to run. How she’s still there, taunting me, when she should be gone by now.

“We’re not hunting today,” I grit out.

Because I can’t think straight. It’s been days, but I can’t focus.

I drag Ben away back toward the cabin. He keeps whining, but I give a sharp command, so he settles at my feet.

In my pocket, my phone buzzes. The sound is surprisingly loud in the silence of the forest, so that any animals bound out of the clearing anyway.I glare at the phone as I take it out. I really don’t want to speak to whoever is calling me, but it could be important. Mundel knows not to call me when I’m off-grid, and only he and a few others I trust have this number.

“What?”