Page 34

Selene

I tried sleeping and then also fucking my fingers but that left me wholly unsatisfied after having Malik and Dante stuffed inside me. So, now I’m wandering around my favorite trinket shop, looking for a new jar to stash on my wall. A low melody peels from my throat as I weave through the aisles, my fingers brushing chipped teacups and tarnished brass figurines.

The aisle toward the back is my siren call, my eyes already scanning the options. One’s heavy with brass but just a little too gaudy; another shimmers with iridescent scales, but I’ve got a mermaid jar already. My gaze lands on one with a heart etched in the glass and I pluck it from the shelf before tucking it in my little basket. Another catches my eye; a witch’s hat, black and pointed, and I grab that too, a smile tugging at my lips.

There aren’t many jars I haven’t seen before which doesn’t shock me but I’m also disappointed, knowing that I’ll run out of choices soon. My phone vibrates in my pocket, interrupting my quest for the perfect jar.

Of course, it’s him . I place the phone to my ear, waiting to hear his voice.

“Did you like my present?”

I whirl around, searching for wherever the fuck this guy must be but there’s no one here save for the old shop owner at the front. It takes me a minute to remember what he was talking about and realize it’s about the rock he left me. “I love it,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Every girl just wants a bunch of fucking rocks.”

“But you’re not every girl, Doe. I’m getting ready to make my move, but I wanted to make sure you were still thinking of me. By the way, there’s a beautiful jar in the back, third row. I think it’ll be perfect for my heart.”

He’s been here too? Of course, he has. He’s somehow everywhere else. I shuffle a few of the jars out of the way, reaching the one he must be talking about. It’s got a diamond crusted skull on the front of thin black glass, brass bones sticking out of the handle and along the top. It really is a perfect jar. “What makes you think you’d end up on my wall?” I’m not even going to think about why or how he knows about the wall.

“Because I know you. That wall is your strength, an extension of your own heart. It gives you life. Having me there would be a triumph, a relief, a conquest of epic proportions.”

“Bold assumption,” I grumble, snatching the jar and putting it in my basket.

“Now, excuse me while I put the finishing touches on my move. It’s going to be glorious, Bella. So glorious.”

The line goes dead, the coffee souring in my gut at the new name he just gave me. No one calls me Bella. I always hated my real name. Everyone knew it growing up. They either called me Ana or picked something else. Bella does something to me, nightmares pulling the edge of my mind, threatening to pull me under.

I force myself to focus, paying for the jars and hurrying up to put them away. However, it’s embarrassingly obvious that someone’s been in here. The coffee table is askew and so is the couch. Horror sets in as I start running through my apartment, checking everything and realizing that while nothing has been taken, something has been left here.

Many things.

I start piling each little rock on the coffee table, cringing as I realize each one has a letter on it. I’m not even sure if it spells something because I’m too terrified that my mysterious caller has gotten to the one place he’s not supposed to be.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” I scream as I take off to my bedroom to see my wall of jars out on display. Was this his glorious move because I’m beyond pissed and terrified. No one has ever infiltrated themselves into my life like this and I have no idea what to do.

My gaze creeps along each jar before falling on a rock situated toward the back, blood dripping off the side. I grab it, turning it over to see an A printed on it. “The fuck?” I pull out my phone and dial the mysterious caller, needing answers. “What the fuck is this?”

“I thought you might call. Turn on the TV. I told you my move would be glorious.”

I search for a remote, frantically changing the channel to our local news station, eyes wide as some anchor drones on about a new murder so soon after Philip’s. The headline reads: Businessman Brutally Beaten in Courtyard .

There’s a blurry picture of the same courtyard I was in a few days ago but this kill is grotesque. Nothing about this is art. But then the anchor mentions a name: Richard Hensley, a gasp tearing from my throat as I continue to watch. Hensley was a predator I chased months ago but never got my hands on. He moved up my list when he caught my ass at one of those uppity functions Ashthorne sometimes has but I haven’t been able to do anything.

However, a kill this close to mine and everyone is going to know that we’re playing a game, that this man on the phone is challenging me.

“I found out he touched you,” the man purrs through the earpiece, “and that just can’t happen.”

“You can’t go around killing all the people that fuck around with me!” I snap, my hand waving the rock around as blood flies across my room. Something about blunt force trauma on the TV tells me that I’m holding the murder weapon and am now covered in Hensley’s blood. Great. “Especially not someone as big as that! There has to be a good reason and touching me isn’t one.”

“No, it’s not a good reason but I did it anyway. Hensley was a piece of shit human and you know it. He was eventually going to be one of your targets but I sped up the timeline. Besides, I don’t mind your recent conquests. In fact, I really like them. It’s nice that they’re all bundled up in the same place.”

Confusion splits through the anger. “What are you talking about?”

“They haven’t told you yet that they all live together?” he teases just as a heavy knock hits my front door. “That’s probably them, coming to make sure you’re okay. Ask them how they know the Wolf. I want to see your face when Dante tries to explain.”

The bastard has to have cameras in here because how else can he see everything? That’s beside the point. I quickly hang up, just in time for my front door to slam open, Dante stalking down the hall toward me.

“Fuck, I thought something might have happened to you.”

“What? Why?” As far as I know, nothing has changed in the last several hours. I search his expression for answers, hoping he won’t give me some bullshit.

“Because we came across a bit of information that might explain what’s going on. There’s a lot of shit to wade through but you’re being targeted specifically and—”

My mysterious caller doesn’t fit that profile, not with the freaked out look on Dante’s face. I decide to test my luck and ask about something I shouldn’t know. Maybe Dante will lie to me or maybe he’ll tell me the truth. All I know is that I’m really fucking confused right now. “Who’s the Wolf?”

Silence meets my question as Malik and Ronan step up to the edge of my room, Dante glancing back at them and then at me. “How do you know Ronan’s name?”

Fucking hell. Of course, I’d somehow stumble on three bastards who are absolutely perfect for me. “And you, uh, live together?”

I don’t get an immediate answer for that either, Dante’s eyes roaming all over me until they land on the bloody rock in my hand. “How would you know that? Princess, what the fuck are you holding?”

“It’s complicated, okay? But I’m beginning to see that all of this is just part of a much, much bigger picture.”

Ronan steps forward, an indecisive look on his face. “See, what I would like to know is that the media already has wind of this kill and they keep mentioning something about a rock missing from the original formation at the courtyard. Which looks to be currently in your hands. I don’t think you did it, Selene but I’m pretty sure you might have a clue as to who it is.”

My shoulders deflate as I push past all three of them and head down the hall. “I’m not having a heart to heart in my bedroom. Make yourselves comfortable on the couch. I need a fucking drink.”