This is why men like him never understand the danger they stand against. They believe violence announces itself. Raised voices. Threats. Warning signs. But the real violence is quiet. Calculated. Patient.
I could walk into that morgue tonight and end him before anyone even realizes I was there. I already know the blind spots in the camera grid. The exact route between the service elevator and the security office. The keycard access codes.
The way Bryan leans back in his chair when he's bored, exposing the soft underside of his throat. A fatal vulnerability. I know the time he leaves the building. I know where he parks. Which nights he goes to gym. Which bar he prefers on Fridays.
Bryan thinks he's part of the system that protects her. The irony almost makes me smile. Because right now the only thing protecting him is her.
My gaze shifts back to the screen. Madeline leans against the edge of the desk now. And then it happens. She smiles at him. Not a polite one. Not the restrained professional smile she gives the others. This one is softer. Warmer.
Something in my chest tightens violently. My apartment suddenly feels smaller. Darker. I exhale slowly through my nose.Three seconds. Four. Five. Control returns the way it always does. Like a blade sliding back into its sheath. But when it comes to her. It's too fucking hard. The restraint I must obtain is torturous.
Bryan doesn't understand the privilege he's been given tonight. He's alive because she's looking at him. Because if she wasn't, I would already be there. Watching through a camera is one thing. Watching a man flirt with something that belongs to me is another.
My gaze drifts to the phone resting beside my keyboard. For a moment I consider simply ending it. Driving there. Breaking his neck in the parking lot. But that would frighten her. Fear easily forms into hatred. And hatred directed to me is... counterproductive. No. A warning will do. For now.
My fingers unlock the phone. A number appears on the screen. Hers. I've had it for days. Of course I have. The message takes less than five seconds to write. No theatrics. Just the truth.
ME:"Don't let him touch what doesn't belong to him. Consider this your only warning."
I hit send. Through the monitor, I watch her phone vibrate on the desk. Then add one more line. Because clarity is important.
ME:"Next time there will be consequences, Madeline."
My lips curl slightly. Let's see if she listens.
On the screen, Bryan notices the immediate shift in her expression as she glances at the notification.
"Everything okay?"
He asks, his voice full of that misplaced, heroic concern.
I lean back in my chair, watching carefully. She doesn’t look at him. She glances at the camera. Not by accident. Never by accident. For a second, it almost feels like she's looking directly at me through the screen.
Bryan follows her gaze and chuckles, oblivious to the fact that he’s breathing on borrowed time.
"Stalker again?"
The humor will leave him soon enough.
She lies to him, telling him it’s nothing, but I can see it in the subtle tension of her jaw. Cute. Bryan finally pushes himself off the desk, muttering something about getting back downstairs before his boss thinks he’s slacking. Good. Leave.
But he pauses in the doorway. Of course he does.
"Hey," he adds, turning back toward her with that hopeful, irritating grin.
"You should come tomorrow night."
My fingers stop moving on the keyboard. The air in my apartment seems to hold its breath. Madeline tilts her head slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing her features.
"Come where?"
Bryan shrugs casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he hasn’t just signed his own death warrant.
"Hospital thing. Small party. They rented a private lounge at the Grand Aurora Hotel."
My attention sharpens instantly, cold and focused. The Grand Aurora. I know the floor plans. I know exactly how many exits lead to the darkened alleyways of the city.
He continues.
