Page 106 of Mine To Hunt

This was not mess. It was balance fixed in my world. She is mine, and I protect my things with care.

Setting up the body in the stall, leaving the iris as my mark, filled me with a deep sense of completion. The problem was gone. Order restored. His severed hand was tossed into a dumpster where it belonged.

Now, in the present, I watch from my car across from her office as she gets into another man's car. Her ease with him, relaxed shoulders, real smile that lights up her eyes, head tilting with laughter, sparks a careful anger in me, a cold bother at this short-term break-in.

I pick apart their every talk. His caring but not owning look, easy words from years of knowing each other, loose pose with hand waves. His comfort with her bugs me more than I thought, a small issue in my control that needs watching. She is mine, and no one else will step in without paying for it.

I look at the man with total focus, each detail adding to my cool judgment. Fit body, calm sureness, no weapons, seems safe at first.

But his closeness to her, the simple way she sits next to him, sends a sharp poke of anger through me. The idea of killing him hits fast, clean and pleasing. Follow them, wait till he's alone, take him to a quiet spot, get rid of the problem for good.

I feel a quick, buzzing thrill from that idea, the pure joy of fixing things. But acting on urge has no room here. Killing him now would be wasteful, messy, and could pull eyes to what belongs to me. I won't let anything mess up my hold on Iris.

I lock his face in my mind instead, every line, every part, like a mark. When he drops her off, I follow his car from just the right spot, near enough to see, far enough to stay hidden. Each turn, every road, every spot, I note with exact care. The wave of control I feel doing it is almost fun.

He drives to a big, locked-up home, tall gates, cameras all over, guards with guns. The name on the gate tells me what I guessed. His dad is big, linked to power, risky to hit now.

The danger math runs quick in my head. Getting rid of him would make trouble, checks, issues that could slow my goals for her. So I pick hold-back, and that pick feels like strength. I won't hit him yet.

I sit in the dark after his gates shut, car off, letting the anger turn into something keener. A held-back hate that another man can make her smile so freely, relax so fully, when only I should do that.

It's not jealousy. Jealousy is soft, feeling-based, normal. This is colder. It's knowing she relaxes with the wrong guy. That her true laugh is mine only. That only I can make her shake with fear and joy at once. Only I can split her wide and own each broken bit.

This man won't last. Just a quick side thing. I feel a calm, happy sureness that I'll beat him. I'll watch, wait, learn his every way, every weak point, till he turns into a risk worth cutting out. Then it'll be exact. Neat. Pleasing.

I drive off slow, the flavor of owning her soon already strong in my mouth. She'll see me again quick. And when she does, every easy smile she gave him tonight will wipe away. She'll recall just who she belongs to.

Only me. Always me.

Chapter 33

Her

Al stands near the keypad by the door, patiently explaining the security system to me again for what feels like the third time. He has been here since morning, helping with everything, and while his protectiveness makes me feel safe, it also makes me feel slightly overwhelmed.

He keeps checking every detail like something terrible will happen if he misses even one thing. He looks at me with that serious face he makes when he is worried.

“The guy from the security company should be here any minute.” Al says, glancing at the door before looking back at me. “Told them to send someone good. I’m not trusting just anyone with this.”

I smile. “Al… seriously. Thank you. You’ve already done so much.”

He waves it off. “Hey, don’t start with that. That’s what friends are for, Ree. I just want you safe.”

“You’re starting to sound like my bodyguard.” I tease.

He snorts softly. “If that’s what it takes.”

Just then, the doorbell rings.

Al stands up immediately. "That must be him. Stay here. I’ll check."

"I can open my own door, you know." I call after him.

"I know." He says, already walking away. "But let me."

He opens it, and a man in uniform stands outside holding a toolbox.

"Hello, Sir. I’m from SecureHome. I’m here for the camera installation." The man says politely.