Page 8 of Watch Me Burn

THE WATCHER

“ D on’t stay too late.” Zoe’s voice carries across the office as she shoulders her bag. “The security guard on Tuesdays is creepy.”

I glance up from my monitor and offer my best innocent grin. “Just finishing Tracy’s presentation for tomorrow. Go enjoy your date with Dom.”

Zoe’s face lights up at the mention of her fiancé. “I still can’t believe we’re actually getting married in three months.”

“Believe it. You deserve your happily ever after.” I organize the stack of folders on my desk, playing the part of diligent assistant. “The Boston transfer to New York worked out well for you.”

“God, yes. Best shit transfer ever.” Zoe laughs, the sound bright and untroubled. Sometimes I envy that about her—the effortless joy she radiates these days. But I also don’t understand how a man could have added so much to her life.

I don’t buy that love bullshit. Don’t think I ever will, but you never know.

“If that position hadn’t opened up here, I’d still be freezing in Boston, and Dominik would be just another hockey player I secretly crushed on.”

If she only knew how calculated that “shit” transfer had been. How many strings I’d pulled, how many people I’d threatened to create that opening—all to get closer to her brother. The brother who had seen too much at Untamed.

“Just lucky timing,” I say with a shrug, the lie coming easily. “Tracy would’ve hired you anyway. She loves you and is going to be so upset once you run off to officially chase your dreams.”

“I came back to help out. That has to count for something.”

“You came back for me.”

Zoe’s eyes gleam, which means she’s oblivious to my true intentions. A sharp pang of guilt grabs hold of my insides, twisting painfully. Zoe trusts me completely, and part of me hates that betrayal has become second nature. But I remind myself quickly—friendship is a luxury I can’t afford.

“True.”

I’m going to miss her. More than I should.

“But seriously,” I say, forcing a grin, “you’re the best strategist this place has ever had.”

“And you’re the best assistant Tracy’s ever had—according to her, at least. We make a good team.”

Zoe hesitates by the door. “You’re sure you don’t want to join us? It’s just drinks at Sullivan’s.”

I shake my head. “Three’s a crowd. Besides, I have plans.”

Plans involving knives, blood, and the slow removal of fingernails. I’ve got my next target lined up for tonight and I’ve been looking forward to taking down this asshole for quite some time now.

After Zoe leaves, I drop the facade.

My face drops as I pull up the tracking app on my phone. The little blinking dot shows Aaron at his penthouse.

Good. He’s exactly where I need him to be for tonight while I work. Maybe I’ll send him another surprise in the morning.

I shut down my computer and gather my things, casting one last glance around the empty office.

Infiltrating Blooms Consulting had been surprisingly easy—a strategic opening created by one of my father’s associates, an impressive but entirely fabricated resume, and within weeks I was Tracy’s executive assistant.

The perfect position to become close to Zoe while maintaining my cover as unassuming Via Jameson.

The deeper agenda—ensuring Zoe’s transfer from Boston to create a connection to Aaron—had required more finesse.

A few strategic conversations with HR, some manipulated paperwork, and a competitor’s job offer mysteriously falling through.

Greg, Zoe’s old boss or what I like to call as a typical skid mark, made things that much easier for me.

No one would ever connect those threads back to the peppy assistant who kept the coffee fresh and the meetings organized.

The elevator descends smoothly to the lobby. The security guard—Eddie, who is indeed creepy but knows better than to look twice at me—nods as I pass.

“Working late again, Ms. Jameson?”

“Tracy needs this presentation perfect,” I reply without breaking stride.

The night air hits me as I exit the building, crisp with early spring. I pull my coat tighter and head toward the parking garage across the street. My phone buzzes with a text from Marco.

Target on the move.

Larson is a child predator hiding behind a polished suit and an executive title. An insurance mogul who built his fortune on the backs of the suffering, denying claims, letting grieving families drown in debt while he lined his pockets.

A man responsible for thousands of deaths.

And tonight, he’s heading straight to my funhouse.

A soundproofed shipping container on the docks—stripped of comfort and humanity. Just like its guests. I do most of my work here. Where justice doesn’t come with a trial, only a sentence.

It’s not easy being a modern-day superhero, especially as a woman. People like to pretend monsters like Larson exist in the shadows, but they don’t. They sit in boardrooms, make deals over golf, smile for the cameras. They blend in. They are charming and likable.

Larson doesn’t just destroy lives—he hunts children. Gets off on it. The sick fuck.

That’s what I hate about him the most. Recently he’s been trying to get into the human trafficking market and there is no way in hell I’m going to let that happen.

Tonight, he learns what it’s like to be the hunted.

And when I’m done with him, the world will be just a little bit cleaner.

The parking garage is eerily quiet at this hour, my heels echoing against concrete as I make my way to the lower level where I left my car. The lighting is poor down here—a security risk most would avoid, but one I welcome.

Darkness has always been my ally.

I’m ten feet from my car when I sense it.

The shift in the air. The barely perceptible sound of controlled breathing.

Someone is here, waiting for me.

I don’t break stride, but my hand slides into my purse, fingers closing around one of the knives I never leave home without.

“Stalking is a crime, you know.” I call out, my voice carrying in the empty space.

A figure steps out from behind a concrete pillar. Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a wolf mask that gleams dully in the low light.

The same mask from Untamed.

Aaron.

“Says the woman who’s been watching me for months.” His voice is distorted by the mask, but the anger comes through clearly enough.

“I prefer to think of it as keeping an eye on an investment.”

“Is that what I am to you? A stock you’re watching crash?” He steps closer, blocking my path.

“More of a liability, actually.” I stop, keeping a calculated distance between us. Not out of fear, out of strategy.

Larson is getting farther away but I can’t just leave Aaron like this.

He reaches up, removing the mask in one fluid motion. The look beneath is all hard lines and barely contained fury. Handsome, in that privileged, untouchable way that makes me want to see it marred with pain. And something else I won’t even allow myself to think.

“What do you want from me?” he demands. “The threats, the gifts, the surveillance. What’s your endgame here, Via? We both know that’s not your name.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “You’ve been trying to do your own homework. I’m impressed.”

“Not enough, apparently.” He takes another step forward. “I still don’t know who you’re working for or what you want.”

“Maybe I just enjoy watching you squirm.”

He moves suddenly, closing the distance between us, backing me against the concrete wall. His hands plant on either side of my head, caging me in. It’s meant to intimidate. Instead, I feel a rush of something electric.

Something I haven’t felt in a long time.

“Back off,” he snarls, slamming a palm against the wall beside my head. “Leave me the fuck alone. If you hurt my sister or Dom, I’ll burn down everything you fucking love.”

I smirk. “Careful, Aaron. You’re playing with fire, and you have no idea how much I enjoy getting burned.”

His eyes narrow. “This isn’t a game.”

“Then what is it?” I ask, tilting my head. “Or what, Aaron? What will you do if I don’t stop?”

“I’ll make you regret it.”

I laugh, the sound cold and sharp. “I’d like to see you try. Many have and somehow they ended up full of regret.” I press a hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath my palm. “Usually in their final moments.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Just a fact.”

We stand there, locked in a silent battle of wills. The air between us feels charged, dangerous. His gaze flickers to my lips, so quick I might have missed it.

But I don’t.

Nothing complicates a hunt like attraction.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice lower now. “Money? Information? What will it take for you to disappear for good?”

My fingers trail softly along his jaw, feeling him tense beneath my touch, every muscle rigid with suppressed fury…and something darker. “Maybe I don’t want to disappear,” I whisper, relishing the way he’s torn between shoving me away and pulling me closer. “Maybe I’m exactly where I want to be.”

His jaw clenches beneath my fingers, shoving me away. “Working at my sister’s company? Pretending to be her friend? Showing up to the club the other night? For what?”

“For access,” I admit. “To you.”

“Why?”

I close in on him again, leaning in as my lips nearly brush his ear. “Because you saw something you shouldn’t have. Something that could unravel everything my family has built. I don’t tolerate loose ends.”

He stiffens. “Your family?”

My pulse spikes unexpectedly, adrenaline mixing with a sliver of uncertainty. Revealing my true name is risky—but fuck, the look on his face is worth it.

I pull back slightly, wanting to watch his reaction as realization dawns on him.

“Giovanni Mortelle may ring a bell,” I say, enjoying the way his jaw drops. “Though most just call him Mr. Mortelle. I call him Father.”

Aaron steps back, his expression shifting rapidly from shock to something deeper than fear, maybe disgust, even betrayal.

“You’re his daughter?” he rasps, like the words poison his tongue. “You’ve been under our noses this entire time?”

“Caterina Mortelle,” I murmur, voice dripping sweet poison. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Caterina,” he repeats, the name sounding different in his mouth.

Frightening.

Forbidden.

And fucking delicious.

“If I’m going to haunt your nightmares, you might as well use my real name.”

“Does your father know what you do at night? The men you eliminate?” He spits out.

“What do you think?” I counter. “That I moonlight as an assassin without the knowledge of one of the most powerful men in the criminal world? Or that I’m the perfect weapon—his obedient daughter, trained since childhood to clean up his messes?”

A little lie is needed at times like this.

Aaron is reassessing everything he thought he knew. The muscles in his throat work as he swallows.

“So the room at Untamed?—”

“Is a hobby of mine. Business of sorts,” I cut him off. “Just like your deal with my father is business. Though I wonder what he’d say if he knew you had certain...insurance measures in place.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” I reach into my purse, pulling out a small thumb drive—not the one he’s protecting, but similar enough to send the message. “Then I suppose this wouldn’t interest you.”

The look of naked fear that flashes across his eyes is almost beautiful.

“You can’t?—”

“I can do whatever I want.” I step forward, into his space this time. “That’s the privilege of being a Mortelle.”

I expect him to back away. Instead, he holds his ground, his eyes locked with mine. The tension between us shifts, something darker threading through it.

“What do you want?” he asks again, his voice rough.

I reach up, tracing a finger along his jaw. “Maybe I haven’t decided yet.”

His hand catches my wrist, grip tight enough to bruise. “I’m not a toy for you to play with.”

“No?” I press closer, feeling the heat of him even through our clothes. “Then what are you, Aaron Jackson?”

Something dark flashes in his eyes—primal, uncontrolled.

In one swift movement, his hand releases my wrist and finds my throat instead, backing me hard against the concrete wall.

His fingers press into my skin, not quite cutting off my air but making his point clear.

Raw fury radiates from him, his body rigid with barely contained violence.

My instinct screams to reach for the blade strapped to the inside of my thigh, but I don’t. Instead, my eyes deliberately flick to the corner of the parking garage where a security camera’s red light blinks steadily in the darkness.

Aaron follows my gaze, his grip loosening slightly as understanding dawns. The camera. Witnesses. Evidence.

“Go ahead,” I manage, my voice raspy under the pressure of his hand. “Show me who you really are.”

His jaw clenches as he releases me, stepping back with disgust—at me or himself, I’m not sure. But I’ve won this round, and we both know it.

I brush my fingers against my throat, savoring the tenderness that will likely bruise. “Not so different from me after all, are you?”

When he glances back at me, for a fraction of a second I think he might kiss me. The thought sends a thrill of something wicked down my spine. But maybe that’s just my sick head playing games with me again. Because in the next second he steps back, putting more distance between us.

“You’ve picked the wrong man to fuck with.”

I laugh, the sound echoing in the empty parking lot. “We’ll see about that.”

He retrieves his mask from where he’d dropped it, his movements controlled but tense. “Stay away from my sister.”

“Or you’ll what? Tell her the truth? That her best friend is actually the daughter of the man who owns your soul?” I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“If you hurt Zoe, if you touch Dominik—I’ll make sure your family buries you.”

“You’re welcome to try. But we both know how that ends.”

“This isn’t over,” he warns.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” I step toward my car, keys in hand. “Sweet dreams, Aaron. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

I slide into my car, watching in the rearview mirror as he stands there, the wolf mask clutched in one hand, the weight of revelation crushing down on his shoulders.

Caterina Mortelle. The daughter of the man who holds his future. And not just some random killer who caught him in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not just his sister’s friend with questionable hobbies.

I start the engine and pull away. I should be pissed I missed the kill, but all I feel is fire.

Aaron finally knows the truth.

The name.

I check Larson’s location, deciding to implement plan B.

Soon, Aaron will realize there’s nowhere left to hide. Let him run to Tristan with this news. Let them panic together, realizing just how deeply entangled they’ve become.

The chase is always more exciting when the prey knows it’s being stalked.