Page 39

Nic

I stare at the message on my laptop screen, my stomach twisting.

Hey dirtygirl, did I say the last time would be the last? Well, I'm fickle. Sue me. Good news is, I've got another Chase candy to quench your thirst.

There's a hyperlink I don't bother opening.

The not-so good news is, well, inflation. Yeah, we're all feeling it. Meaning you now owe me a cool grand.

PS. Fuck me, is she even legal yet?

Attached is a picture that makes me sick to my stomach.

It's Bea, asleep in bed. It looks like it was taken through her open window. Problem is, Bea sleeps in the nude.

I slam the laptop shut, the sound too loud in the silence, my entire body covered in goosebumps

This is my fault.

I knew it would spiral when I paid him last week. I told myself giving in to blackmail would only make things worse, that it would buy me time to find a way to tell Kai. And now, here I am. A living proof of my own stupidity.

I selfishly tried to hold on a little longer, and now this creep has nudes of my sister.

“I’m so fucked.” I press the heels of my palms into my eyes until stars burst behind my lids.

I need Kai. I need him to fix this. Even if I lose him. I can't let anything happen to Bea.

My fingers curl around the two black feathers in my drawer, their red-tipped edges gleaming faintly in the lamplight.

I don't even know if it's the same person threatening me anymore. I just feel claustrophobic.

After staring at Kai’s name for a good ten minutes, unable to make the call, I grab a legal pad. Maybe if I can’t say it, I can write it and post it to him.

I grab a pen, pressing the tip to the page, drawing in a shaky breath.

Dearest Kai, I begin.

A sharp clink against the window makes me jump. The pen slips from my fingers, rolling off the desk and onto the floor.

Silence.

It’s just a bird.

My gaze flicks to the inky black feathers resting on my desk.

Yeah. Probably a crow. Coming back for what’s his.

Then the knock comes again. Louder this time. Harder. More insistent.

My pulse spikes as I cross the room, my legs unsteady beneath me. The curtains feel heavier than usual as I pull them back, dread coiling deep in my stomach.

A tall man stands in the pouring rain, a ski mask obscuring his face.

My breath catches.

Dark hair is plastered to his forehead, His shirt clings to his muscular body, soaked through, but it’s not his drenched form that sends a shiver up my spine.

It’s the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m his to devour.

My fingers fumble with the latch as I shove the window open.

“Kai? What are you doing—”

“We need to talk.” His voice is rough, the rain and the mask muffling the edges, but the desperation is unmistakable.

I step back, letting him climb inside.

The moment he’s in, he yanks off the mask and shakes out his hair, sending droplets scattering onto the floor.

Then he pins me with a look that steals my breath. Like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that could satisfy him.

I exhale, the tension between us thick enough to drown in. My fingers toy with the waistband of my boyshorts, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me what’s got you sneaking into my room, all masked and soaked.”

His eyes darken, his body tightening with something I can’t name.

“There’s something you should know about me.” His voice is low, thick with something unreadable.

The air shifts. Thickens.

I swallow. “Okay . . ."

“But first . . .” He takes a step toward me. Then another. “I’m hungry.”

A shiver races through me.

I instinctively step back, pulse hammering. “You’re all wet.”

“Fair point.” He yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, the fabric slapping against the hardwood.

I swallow hard. “And probably cold.”

One gentle push on my lower belly—and I fall back onto the bed.

His hands frame my thighs, dragging me down as he kneels between them, his grip firm, possessive.

A loud rip and then my boyshorts are gone.

His tongue traces a bold path from my knee to the apex of my thighs, then he stops and stares right at my core. His breath ghosts over my skin, watching, waiting, teasing me with nothing but his gaze.

I squirm, aching for him.

"Fuck, Nicole, you get wet fast. Not even a full minute, and you're already dripping for me."

The ache spirals into a raging inferno, and I reach down, fingers threading into his rain-damp hair, pulling him closer. "Kiss me, Kai,” I moan.

He chuckles darkly. "I suggest you put your hands to better use if you don’t want your dad and sister cheering in the audience."

Fuck.

His mouth descends, and my entire body shudders. Heat blooms under my skin, followed by a rush so intense I can’t stay still as his tongue moves in long, agonizing licks, dragging up my core.

A groan slips from my lips before I can stop it. My hips jerk off the bed, desperate for more. "Kai—"

His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me still. "Quiet,” he warns, his breath hot against me.

I gasp, nodding frantically, my hands flying to my mouth to stifle any more sounds.

Then, he devours me.

The world outside this moment—the threats, the blackmail, the fear of what I have to confess—ceases to exist.

Kai’s hands move up my body, his touch igniting every nerve ending in its path. His fingers skim over my ribs, then higher, until he cups my breast. I arch into him.

Then his tongue spears into me at the exact moment he rolls my nipple between his fingers. The pleasure is so sharp it rips through me.

I scream, my back bowing off the mattress, but Kai is on me before the sound fully escapes.

His mouth crushes mine, his tongue—my taste—sweeping through me with the same hunger he had between my thighs.

Then he frees himself and sinks into me, his heat stretching me, filling me.

The pressure is too much and not enough all at once. I cry out again, unable to hold it in.

His smirk is lethal. "Such a fucking brat."

Then, the world shifts. One moment, I’m on the bed. The next—I’m not.

My back presses into something solid. A wall? I can’t tell. I only know that he has me pinned, his hand clamping over my mouth. Then his hips start slamming into mine with deep, punishing thrusts.

A picture on the wall rattles, then crashes to the floor. The sound of shattering glass barely registers.

Kai moves again, and the next thing I feel is sturdy wood beneath my ass.

Must be the desk.

Greedy for more, I clutch the edge, steadying myself to meet his thrusts.

Something knocks over—maybe a book, maybe my lamp—but I don’t care. I just need—

Kai suddenly freezes.

"Don’t stop,” I mewl.

But he isn’t even looking at me. His gaze is fixed on something past me. His breath hitches, every muscle locked like a trap about to spring.

"What the fuck?"

I blink, still dazed. Then I follow his line of sight—and my stomach twists violently.

The drawer is halfway open—the drawer I hid all the stuff I meant to burn last week.

A loop of rainbow-colored rubber peeks out. A single, meaningless detail. Except—it isn’t meaningless at all.

Kai pulls out of me so fast I feel the loss like a slap.

For a moment, I think he’s going to throw me off the desk entirely. Instead, he pulls me up then he turns me toward the drawer, a hand at my nape as if to force me to look at the crime scene.

Dread spreads like poison through my veins as he jabs a finger jabs at the rubber strap. “What the fuck is that?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat is dry, my pulse roaring in my ears. “I—I . . . it’s just a swim goggle I got on sale.”

“Really?” Without another word, he pushes me aside.

I watch, helpless, as he grips the drawer handle and yanks it fully open.

He reaches inside, pulls out the goggles, turns them over in his palm slowly, like he’s trying to make sense of something his brain won’t let him understand.

His fingers tighten so hard around the rubber strap his knuckles go white.

“Kai,” I whisper, panic rising in my throat like bile. I know I’m fucked because he starts pulling out more pieces of my betrayal with eerie precision.

A Polaroid photo: a young boy, frozen in time. Ten years old. Training camp. His fingers tighten around the picture, and I see the flicker of pain in his expression.

Feeling like the world’s sleaziest human, I whisper brokenly, “Kai, it’s not what you think—”

He lifts a hand in a sharp, silencing gesture. Then, he continues going through everything.

Papers fly. Objects hit the floor and his eyes harden with each new discovery, stripping another layer of my soul away.

When he takes my laptop, my panic boils over.

“Kai, no! Don’t. You can’t—”

Too late.

The glow of the screen illuminates his face, casting harsh shadows across his jaw as his fingers fly over the trackpad.

The login screen prompts for a password. For a long, excruciating moment, he doesn’t move. Then, in a voice eerily calm, he says, “For the love of God, tell me you’re more original than using a certain date two days from now.”

Shame floods me, drowning me whole. I want the ground to open up. A lightning strike. A sinkhole. Anything to save me from the mocking derision in his eyes.

“Well?” His lips barely move.

I can’t speak.

He types in his birthday, and the laptop unlocks.

A sharp breath escapes him—a sound that might have been a laugh if there was anything remotely funny about this.

Then his gaze sharpens as the screen displays the last dark web message I didn’t bother to close.

Hey dirtygirl, did I say the last time would be the last? Well, I'm fickle. Sue me. Good news is, I've got another Chase candy to quench your thirst.

The not so good news is, well, inflation. Yeah, we're all feeling it. Meaning you now owe me a cool grand.

PS. Fuck me, is she even legal yet?

The silence that follows is suffocating.

“Please.” My throat feels on fire. I can’t catch my breath. Tears blur everything. “Let me explain.”

He shoots me a murderous glare. “Alright. Why don’t you start here?”

He picks up the inked feathers and another Polaroid, stares at them both as if unsure which is worse, then finally he pushes the polaroid to me.

Two girls. Arms slung around each other. One sixteen. The other six. Both grinning. A picture of Cass and me. Mom took it the morning before Cass left for summer camp. The summer everything changed.

“How do you know her?” His voice drops into something I barely recognize,

The room spins as eight years of pain come crashing down.

“Answer me!”

“Cass is . . . was my stepsister.” The word scrapes out of me, barely audible. “My mother was married to her dad before . . . She left after mom died . . . she left me—” the rest of my words are lost in a fit of sobs.

Silence stretches.

Then—Kai laughs. A hollow, empty sound that makes every hair on my body rise.

“Of course,” he murmurs, as if the pieces have fallen into place. “Lies must run in the family.”

I flinch.

His eyes flick back to the drawer. “And where did you get the rest of that sickening crap?”

My stomach twists so hard I think I might throw up. “I—I bought them online.” My voice is shaking. “Kai, please—”

He drags his hand dragging over his face like he’s trying to wipe me out of existence. When he looks at me again, he’s gone. The warmth. The love. Every trace of the man I knew. Gone.

“Let me guess. You think I killed her.”

I shake my head at how stupid I was. “I know you didn’t—”

“Really!” He interrupts coldly, “So, what, you wormed your way into my sister’s life—applied twenty-six fucking times to attend her charity ball—because what, you wanted to fuck someone famous?”

I choke on a breath.

“Or maybe it was the thrill of fucking your sister’s boyfriend.”

Pain rips through me like glass. “Kai, please, don’t—please don’t hurt me.”

He tilts his head, his lips curling cruelly. “No? How about some honesty then?”

My hands tremble. “I’ll tell you anything, just . . .” Fuck, this is too hard. The way he’s looking at me hurts worse than those words. My heart feels like it’s ripping out of my chest.

“Who are you working with?”

My head snaps to him, my brows furrowing. "Who are you working with?”

My head snaps up, my brows knitting in confusion. "What? Working with? No one! Kai, I swear—I swear to you, I’m not working with anyone. I love you."

"Love?"

He takes a slow, measured step forward. His hand lifts, fingers twitching, and for an awful second, I think he’s going to hit me—

But instead, his fingers close around my throat. Not hard. Just enough to hold me in place and let me feel the control shift completely to him.

I gasp, my pulse racing. I can feel his pulse, too, hammering through his fingertips—a betrayal of the eerie calm in his voice.

His other hand slides into my hair, gripping the nape of my neck with a gentleness that doesn’t match the pure fury in his eyes.

"You love me?” His voice is quiet, almost . . . gentle. "Are you insane?"

A helpless sob catches in my throat. My hands grip his wrists

He exhales, his breath ghosting against my ear. "Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?"

His grip doesn’t tighten, but it also doesn’t loosen.

"The people who killed your sister?"

A long, horrible pause.

"They killed two others in the exact same way."

“There were others?” My voice fractures.

His smile is pure evil. “Give me a name, Nicole.”

My pulse stops. “I swear to you, Kai,” I whisper. “I’m not working with anyone.”

Kai exhales, slow and deliberate. “Really?”

“We’re talking fifteen years' worth of stalking and unsolved serial murders.” His voice is ice. “And right now?” He shoves the feathers under my nose, the pungent smell of the ink making my eyes water. “You’re the face of the fucking brand. If I were you,” he snarls, “I’d start giving up my friends.”

The meaning is clear. Give him a name. Or become the only suspect.

"I swear I don't have anyone to give you,” I gasp. "I don't know who they are."

He lets me go and steps back. “You will talk,” he says wearily. “It's only a matter of where. Here, or prison.”

I crumple to the floor in a fit of sobs. “Kai, please, I don't know what you’re talking about. All I did was buy stuff from guys online—”

“How many guys?”

“I don't . . . I’m not sure. It's been a while since I started doing it . . .” I trail off, too ashamed to continue

“And where did you find these?” He lets the feathers fall to the floor in front of me

“I got them in the mail. They were wrapped up as presents.”

His tone sharpens. “When?”

“The first one was about six weeks ago, before Gstaad. It came with a card that said ‘slut’.”

He grunts. “Why didn't you say something?”

“I thought they were hatemail. And . . . and then I was ashamed because I thought it was from the guy blackmailing me . . ."

Kai watches me for a long, agonizing moment. Then he starts to laugh.

Somehow, this hurts even worse.

"Why are you laughing?” I whisper.

"Nothing. I just wondered,” His voice hardens. "If the other women got similar packages and just didn't say anything? By the way—those women? They were my girlfriends."

Dread coils inside me like a noose tightening.

"Someone targets your girlfriends—and you didn’t tell me anything?” I whisper.

Kai scoffs. "Because I didn’t connect their deaths together. Not without superstition. But now, it’s fucking real."

Then his voice turns deadly quiet.

"In any case, you should get out of here. For the sake of your family, I’ll give you a six-hour head start before I report you."

I freeze.

"What? Get out?” My voice barely makes it out.

His head tilts, like he’s assessing a fool.

"Out of California. Run. And pray the hounds don’t catch up with you."

"Hounds?"

"The police. Or the stalker. Whichever finds you first. You’re my girlfriend, after all."

He scoops up my laptop, grabs a handful of cut-outs and photos, then turns and walks away, still shirtless.

"Kai, wait! You can’t just leave me—"

My bedroom door slams shut. He apparently doesn't even care about being subtle anymore.

I crumple, my face dropping into my hands as my body shakes uncontrollably. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out everything except Kai’s voice, looping over and over like a death sentence.

Run. And pray the hounds don’t catch up with you.

Where the hell am I supposed to go?

What happens when the authorities come knocking?

If Kai reports me, Cass’s case won’t just be reopened—it will explode. Everything will come to light. How I obsessively stalked this man for years—a man whose girlfriends are being killed. I could even take the fall for Cass’s death.

Valencia.

I don’t even let myself think of the gossip mills, because another darker, more horrifying thought takes my breath.

This is worse than being arrested and shamed. My gaze drops to the feathers, their red-tipped edges catching in the low light.

Whoever sent them was marking me. I was being chosen. A fourth woman. A fresh target.

A sharp, panicked sound tears from my throat as I stumble to my feet.

I need to disappear.

I grab my overnight bag and pack up the rest of the damning evidence then start stuffing random clothes, my phone charger, anything I can reach. By the time I’m done, my hands shake so bad I can't zip it closed.

Bea. Dad. They might forgive me for leaving. But they’d never if they knew the truth.

I rip open my closet and pull out a pair of jeans, shoving my legs through them so fast I nearly trip. The denim drags against my skin, clinging to the slickness between my thighs—the last humiliating reminder of what I just lost.

“Nic?” Bea’s cautious voice floats through the door

Shit. She’s awake. Kai and I weren’t exactly quiet. My gaze darts to the broken art frame on the floor, but I’m too exhausted to care right now.

Her eyes widen as soon as she enters and takes in the chaos. “Nic, are you okay? I heard noises. I thought I knew what was happening. But then I wasn't sure anymore.”

I heave the bag on to the bed and start zipping up. “Yeah. I’m good. Listen, I have to go.” The words tumble out too fast, too desperate, but I don’t care. I need to get away from everything.

Bea stiffens. “Where are you going?”

“I just—I just need to leave, okay? I’ll be in touch when I can, but I can’t stay.”

“What did Kai do? Nic, you’re shaking.” She reaches for my hands. “Tell me what he did.”

I yank away, stepping back, blinking furiously to clear the tears burning behind my eyes. If she keeps pushing, I’ll break. If she sees what’s in the bag, she’ll never let me leave.

“It’s not what he did . . . It was me.”

Her eyes flick over me like she’s trying to solve an impossible equation. “Nic, where are you going?”

“I can’t say. Just promise me that whatever happens, you’ll hear me out.”

“Nic, you’re not making any sense.”

“Just promise me, Bea!”

She looks at me for a long time, like she’s searching for something, waiting for me to let her in. After a moment, she nods.

It almost destroys me.

I throw my arms around her, gripping her tightly, my hand moving in slow, soothing circles over her back as her body shakes with silent sobs

“Shh,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”

And that’s what I keep telling myself when I slide into the taxi headed to the bus station.

But it’s not okay. It may never be.

Kai’s face flashes through my mind—the way he looked at me at the end. Like I was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

I did this. I shattered his trust. But even worse. I was wrong. He’s not going to help me. Or Bea. Or Dad.

He not only laughed in my face, he’s throwing me to the dogs

And now, I can't help anyone either. I have six hours to disappear or I could be caught . . . or dead.