She pouts slightly, but she’s too tired to argue, barely keeping her eyes open as Hopper cradles her against his chest, whispering soft reassurances in her ear. Malerick takes the new Lala from Maddie’s small hands.
I should be comforting her, too, but Hopper isn’t letting her go. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling. I’m nothing to her and I want to hold her so no one can touch her—ever.
Malerick turns the stuffed pony over in his hands, his fingers pressing along the seams, his movements too careful, too precise. And then he stills.
His fingers press deeper into the plush fabric, feeling something just beneath the surface. My stomach twists.
“Mal,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“You might want to distract Mads, Hop,” he says, before he grabs his knife from his belt, flipping it open with a quick flick of his wrist.
Cotton stuffing spills onto the counter, soft and weightless, floating through the air like dust motes.
At first, I don’t see anything, it’s just fluff. The insides of an innocent toy that should have never meant anything more than comfort to a little girl.
But then, I see it. A tiny black dot buried deep inside the stuffing connected to a wire. It’s no bigger than a dime. He reaches in, carefully extracting it, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger.
A camera.
“A fucking camera,” Mal mumbles.
“Oh, my God.” I stumble back, one hand over my mouth, my entire body numb with shock. It’s horrifying to know that we’ve been watched. Not just us, but Maddie. She’s been carrying it for days.
Everywhere she’s taken this stupid little toy—to the park, to the house, to her bed at night—they have been watching her.
Watching us.
Recording everything.
Hopper is silent, but I can see the glare at the camera. His grip on Maddie tightens for a brief second before he pulls her closer, as if he can shield her from it all, as if she hasn’t already been exposed to something monstrous.
Mal’s expression is stone cold, his jaw locked so tightly I hear the faint grind of his teeth. My breath shudders out of me.
“They’ve been watching,” I whisper. “They’ve been watching her—us.”
I don’t know if I’m going to be sick or if I’m going to scream.
Hopper’s voice is low, controlled—but there’s a lethal edge beneath it. “How long?” Hopper sounds like a live wire, barely contained, and whoever did this better pray to whatever God they believe in, because he’s going to rip them apart.
Mal exhales sharply, rolling the tiny camera between his fingers. “Not sure how long, but I’ll get this sent to the lab.” He hands it over to the guy they call my shadow.
I shake my head, trying to fight the rising panic, the absolute rage that is clawing its way up my throat. “What now?” My voice comes out low, cold.
Mal is completely still, his fingers digging into his arms, his broad chest rising and falling slowly—but I can see the tight control, the barely restrained fury in the way his muscles coil like a predator ready to strike.
“We find them,” he says, his voice dangerously calm. “We find them and we fucking end it.”
“We end it.” Hopper nods, slowly pulling Maddie back just enough to kiss the top of her head. She’s too sleepy to know what’s happening, her little body still limp and trusting in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hopper
This isn’t how I was hoping my night would end. Nope. Did I regret letting Nysa go with only a polite goodbye? Not then, because all I wanted to do was push her against the wall and kiss her hard. I didn’t do any of that. I let her just slip through the door, thinking she’ll be back tomorrow safe. Not knowing that . . . someone is stalking her, watching us all. Wanting to hurt her because what’s happening isn’t just a prank.
The first person I want to punch is Malerick. He said it was safe. She would be safe. He promised nothing would happen to my daughter or Nysa. Nothing. Yet, here we fucking are.
Somebody swapped Maddie’s stuffed pony for a replica, hid a damn camera inside, and let her carry it for days. Three fucking days, recording everything.
