Page 6 of Watched

I scrape the dried blood off my neck. It wasn’t him? Was that not his blood?

Relief throws me against the side of the kitchen island and kicks out my knees. My ass hits the floor, and I jump when my phone vibrates.

Unknown: No contact at all. Don’t make me go back there.

Tears burn my eyes as I put the shaking device back to my ear. “I, um—I just called to say I can’t do this anymore.”

“What? Why?” Connor’s disappointed tone rips through my chest.

“I just can’t. I need to focus on my career… I’m sorry.”

“I know I’ve been pushy about wanting an actual date with you, not just one where we watch movies and shit, but I understand that—”

“I just can’t.” I squeeze my eyes shut and throw my head back. “I’m sorry.” I pull the phone away and end the call before he can reply.

Chapter four

ROME

Panic rips me from my sleep, and I sit up in bed, a tightness in my chest as I scan the room. I spot the chair is still wedged under my door handle, allowing my racing heart to find a less erratic rhythm. I trail the first sheer curtain to the mounted TV, then the next curtain. Finally reaching the closed door to my wardrobe, my gaze falls before it meets the bathroom door.

I heard a creak in the floorboard. I swear.

“H-Hello?” No reply. Of course there won’t be. Why would an intruder announce themselves?

I scan the room again. I can feel eyes on me. Maybe I’m paranoid? I live in a gated community with security. It’s been two days, and nothing has happened. Maybe he just wanted to scare the living shit out of someone out of boredom? He seems the type who’s mentally unstable.

I draw a deep breath and throw myself back against the mattress, running my hands down my face.

Get it together, Rome.

My heart jumps, my body following with a jolt when my phone vibrates. Sweat clings to my trembling hand as I remove the charger.

Unknown: Can’t sleep, baby?

I tap the stainless-steel pole of my side lamp. Goosebumps stab my skin, and I hold my breath, staring at the white chess piece on my side table.

King.

I slowly drag my juddering eyes back to my once again lit screen.

Unknown: I can find you wherever you are.

I shakily type a reply.

Me: Leave me alone.

Unknown: But you’re mine.

Nausea crawls up my throat when a picture comes through of me, asleep in my bed, wearing white sleep pants and a black t-shirt. I look down at my clothes and throw back the covers, dialling 999.

“You need a way to protect yourself, Rome,” Grandpa sighs through the speaker of my phone.

I take a second to compose myself before speaking, “I-I have o-one.” Goddamnit.

“How much have you had to drink, son?”

The glass blurs, and I wobble sideways a little, the whiskey pooling on the bench instead. Shit. “Three, f-four. I don’t know.”