Grace is finally coming around.
I can see it in the way she looks at me—full of raw desire and need instead of the fear I was accustomed to. Even though she told me last week she’s mine, I still have a sick suspicion Grace will flee at the first chance she gets.
She still won’t give in to me fully, and I’m beginning to wonder if she ever will. If there will come a day when I won’t wake up with a jolt, terrified she snuck out while I was resting. I had gotten too comfortable before, had given her too much freedom, thinking she had chosen me—I won’t make that mistake twice.
Although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to let her out. I hate keeping her in the cage. I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep with her in my arms, to wake up and be whole, knowing she’s by my side.Maybe tonight…
I gaze down at my phone, reading the text message again.
Dorian
Need you for cleanup at 21 Toller Ave. Unit 321.
“Great.” I turn, gazing at the roast dinner I prepared for Grace and me tonight. I was looking forward to dining with her, but if I want to keep a low profile, I need to do my work and not cause a fuss.
Sighing, I grab a set of plastic cutlery from the pantry, pick up Grace’s plate, and hurry into the white room. As soon as I step through the door, Grace looks up with wide, hopeful eyes, licking her lips at the smell of the roast.
“Where’s yours?” Her lip juts out in a slight pout. “Are you not eating with me?”
My chest clenches with disappointment. Joint dinners with Grace have become one of my favorite parts of the day—and to learn she also enjoys them is more than I can take.
“I can’t.” I crouch down to unlock the feeding slot. “I want to, but I need to take care of some Sanctum business. I’m so sorry, angel.”
Grace frowns as she reaches up to take my offerings. “What kind of business?”
I sigh, reaching through and thumbing her pouty bottom lip. “I don’t want to spoil your dinner by going into detail. But it’s… nasty work.”
“Okay,” she says. “I hope it’s over with soon.”
“Me too,” I whisper. “Me too.”
I show up at the apartment with my duffel bag in hand, filled with all the tools I need to clean up a dead body—or several—but I’m hoping it’s just the one.
As soon as I step inside the unit, I gag, my eyes watering as a nauseating mixture of scents assaults me. It reeks of shit and cat piss, tinged with the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. I breathe through my mouth as I step deeper inside, glad to have my mask. If the smell isthisbad with my filters, I can’t imagine what it’s like without them.
Which means this is going to be a long one. Yayy.
I follow the stench into the primary bedroom, my lips pressing together at the sight of bloodied footprints disappearing past the closed door. I push it open, fighting the urge to recoil at the sight in front of me.
My absolute worst nightmare—white shag carpet.
“Sweet fucking lord.” I reach up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “This is going to take forever.”
I haven't even looked at the bodies yet. I’m too busy staring at the blood coating the carpet, covering the walls, and the bedspread. Whichever Mask killed these people was clearly going through something—that, or he’s just a really sick individual who likes to make my job harder.
Sighing, I place my duffel bag on the bed and get to work wrapping and dismembering the corpses.
Several hours later, my back is aching, my fingers are cramped, and it feels like a thousand tiny men are hammering against the inner wall of my skull. But at least the job is done.
I check my watch, noting it’s 3:30 in the morning. “Fuck,” I curse.
It will take me at least another hour to lug the body parts down to my van. Technically, I could do it a lot faster if I didn’t hide them in my duffel bag, but I really don’t want to be caught with an armful of body parts by an innocent civilian. I’m trying to keep my head down and stay out of trouble—and that’s just asking for it. Grumbling, I shove a few pieces into my bag and throw it over my shoulder, dreading the upcoming task.
I’m halfway to the exit when the doorknob jiggles, and I freeze in my tracks.The fuck…?
I watch with wide eyes as the brass knob turns, knowing there’s nothing I can do to hide from whoever is entering the apartment.They’ll have to be disposed of. Which means more cleaning…
I stifle my groan as three police officers stomp through the door, their faces set in stone as they gaze around the apartment.
