Page 105 of Drowning in Darkness

Her lips twitch, and she turns a page. “Did your stalking not cover that?”

“Stephanie.”

She lifts her gaze. “Medium. Pink in the middle, no blood on the plate when cut.”

“Got it.”

I drop hers into the skillet and set a two-minute timer before tossing the salad in the dressing. “Have you thought any more about what we discussed?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t had any more thoughts, or no, you disagree with my proposal?”

“Both.”

I add my steak and flip hers.

“Adults discuss things. I’m already going stir crazy, and now when I’m trying to forge a future free from this bullshit, no one is listening to me.”

“Let’s talk after we eat.”

“Why?”

“Because Christopher makes my stomach twist, and I’m rather looking forward to my dinner.”

She huffs and puts her book down before threading her fingers together and resting her chin on them. “You promise we’ll talk?”

“Absolutely.” She’ll probably regret it, but I need to show her everything in order to dissolve whatever romantic notions are going on in her head.

Being safe isn’t cowardice; it’s smart.

She devours her food, beating me in polishing off her plate and sliding off her stool to start clearing up. I could demand she sit her ass down, but I’m a masochist because I’m enjoying the view of her toned legs as she flits around, wiping down the sides and washing the pots. The gentleman in me wants to take over, but she needs to feel like she’s contributing and has a purpose. I understand that, and if this helps, then so be it.

My empty plate is swiped away, and then all the tasks are done, and she’s looking at me with expectation. Right. Fuck, I hate this. But maybe it will shock some sense into her. Burnside is not someone you play games with.

I jerk my head and slide off the stool. “Follow me.” I lead the way to my office, somewhere she hasn’t explored yet.

I wave at one of the leather chairs in invitation and take a seat in the one next to it. I pull up his file, and it fills the four main monitors that track the perimeter of the property. I hesitate for a beat. I don’t want to give her any more fodder for nightmares, but she has to understand why we’re so adamant about her staying here where she’s safe.

“This isn’t to shock you,” I explain as my mouse hovers over the first picture. Tiny at the moment, evidence of his evil soul about to become larger than life. “If you could just trust me that it’s a bad idea.”

“Whatever it is, show me. I deal better with facts. My overactive imagination is my greatest asset, but also my worst.”

I click and the picture of one of his victims appears, the one before he trapped her, broke her, and delivered her back to the world in pieces. I cycle through all of those phases. Stephanie goes silent, still as calm waters, but I sense the storm in her soul is stirring deep.

“How many are there?” she whispers. Not once has she looked away, as if she’s forcing herself to look at the horror.

“Too many. Hundreds, perhaps more.”

His victims deserve justice, and I’m trying my best to maneuver him into a situation that delivers him without question to Camryn. But he’s been doing this a long time, and he knows how to evade anything that could be used. Getting a charge to stick to a man like him, one who has forged many high connections who will close ranks to protect him—and by extension, themselves—is near impossible. I’m trying it by the book, but it’s an unspoken thing between Camryn and me that Burnside might be one of those that meets the devil because I took him out. Ridding the world of him is better than spending decades chasing shadows.

Every time he hurts someone without repercussions, he gains more confidence, and now we have someone who is nursing a god complex.

Stephanie shakes her head and stands. “I don’t understand how this can happen.”

“Don’t you?”

She fists her hands. “If you thought this was going to make me run scared, then you miscalculated.” She points at the screen. “I want him gone from this earth. He needs to become worm fodder.”