Page 165 of Trick or Stalk

I stop. “I don't.”

“You do. It's disturbing.”

“Fuck off.”

His eyes drop to the mask in my hand.

I put it behind my back, but it’s too late. He already saw it.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. This is about that woman.”

I sigh and toss the mask onto the table. “Go to bed, Wilder.”

“You wore the mask around her, didn't you?”

Silence.

“Holy shit.” He sits forward. “You are stalking her.”

“We've already discussed this.”

“No. We discussed you watching her. Apparently, you've advanced to fucking community theater.”

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Wilder starts laughing, his hand slapping the couch. “This is better than fucking TV.”

I stare at him. “I’m gonna throw your ass out the window.”

He laughs harder.

I fold my arms over my chest.

“No you won’t, big bro.” He smirks at me, barely holding in his laughter. “You wouldn’t do me like that.”

He’s right—and he fucking knows it.

After Dad died, I became more than just his brother.

I became his protector.

His mentor.

The one who looked out for him when no one else did.

And we’ve been thick as thieves ever since.

Wilder’s smile slowly fades.

I tense, bracing myself for whatever he’s going to say next, knowing I won’t like it.

“Does she know it’s you?”

“No.”

“Does she know you know where she lives?”

“No.”