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I WARNED YOU, BITCH
I clench my jaw as Gwen enters the apartment.Whoever did this was sloppy. And stupid.
Because threatening my Little Finch will have dire fucking consequences.
Before I can come up with just how I’m going to torture the stupid fuck who did this, Gwen sinks to the floor and begins sobbing uncontrollably, like a torrent of emotions bursting from a dam all at once. I kneel beside her, wrapping my arms around her, a gesture I hope makes her feel safe. My rage boils, barely contained. I hate seeing her this way. It’s hypocritical, I admit, but no one fucks with my Little Finch butme.
“It’ll be alright,” I say, leading her over to the couch. “Tell me what happened. Tell me everything you know.”
She stares at me, her already bloodshot eyes adding to my anger at the situation. “H-he ripped the door from the hinges because …”
“Please, Mia,” I say, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Slow down. Explain.”
Seeing her still pale face makes me want nothing more than to strangle the dumb fuck who did this. “Someone has been stalking me, breaking into my apartment, and moving my things. Last time, he destroyed some of my stuff and left a threatening note attached to a rose. Before that, he attacked me outside of the building after I got home from work.”
I lift my brow, doing my damnedest not to grind my teeth to dust. “Attacked you? With what? What did he look like?”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. “He attacked me with a hunting knife. And I couldn’t see his face because he wore a weird-looking mask.” She swallows. “D-do you think it’s the same person responsible for the recent murders around here?!”
A weird-looking mask?Did someone fancy themselves a stalker serial killer copycat? “I don’t know,” I begin, shaking my head. “But Christ, Mia. Why didn’t you tell anyone? Did you call the police?” I want to avoid law enforcement snooping around here, but any normal person would question the lack of a report in this type of situation.
She stiffens a bit. “I haven’t gotten a hold of them because … I have unpleasant experiences with the law.”
I act skeptical, tilting my head in mock confusion, but don’t prod openly. I know she doesn’t want the blue shirts involved because of her family history. Because of Cameron Cirillo. And because of all the times she was dragged into stations and interrogated, the people around her ‘mysteriously’ croaking.
I may have had something to do with a few of them.Oops.
“But,” I weakly protest, “we should really call them. Let them know what’s going?—”
“No!” she shouts. She takes a deep breath and composes herself. “We should take care of the mess. I’ll make a report in the morning.”
She’s pleading with me, so I relent. “Fine,” I say, heaving a sigh. “I’ll help clean things up after contacting Nancy. We can at least have her get the door fixed and the locks changed.”
“I recently had the locks changed.” She crosses her arms. “Lot of fucking good that did.”
Selfishly, I’m thankful that I haven’t bothered to make a copy of her key. “Here, let me call her and explain what’s going on,” I say, placing a comforting hand on her knee. “We’ll get this all sorted out. I promise.”
Using her phone, I quickly dial Nancy’s number. She answers on the fourth ring, her voice groggy from interrupted sleep. I explain the situation, and she confirms she will put in an emergency request to have things repaired, including another lock change. After I hang up, I look over at Gwen, who seems far away.
I focus on cleaning up the place as best as I can; I need something to channel my rage into. Some asshole has been fucking around in my territory—that’s strike one. The same asshole who decided that stalking my Little Finch and causing her distress was a good idea.
Whoever they are, they willpay. With interest.
I’ll make sure of that.
Chapter
Eleven
HER
The threat scrawled on my living room wall continues to weigh on my mind.
Since that night, life has been mostly uneventful. But I am always on edge, waiting for the threat to materialize. Every time I leave my apartment, I scan my surroundings for any suspicious activity and scrutinize anyone who even glances at me from afar. I’ve even looked into self-defense classes and considered buying a gun for protection.
I worry about myself, but I’m more concerned about Blake. The person stalking me probably won’t stop at terrorizing just me. He knows Blake and I are close, which puts him directly in the line of fire. And considering it looked like a bomb went off in my apartment because of some fucked up tantrum, it sends a chill down my spine when I think of that rage being unleashed upon us.
I stare at the door, hoping that Blake will show up at the store tonight. I need to talk to him, need some kind of reassurance that he’ll be okay and will take whatever steps necessary for self-preservation. Unfortunately, after ignoring his calls and brushing him off one too many times, he hasn’t been in the store for the past two weeks. I don’t blame him; I just want him to be safe. Being around me right now is too risky.
