Page 41 of Fatal Pattern

“Plus, I’m gonna have to replace this whole carpet now.” She gestured weakly at the bloodstains beneath them. “You know how hard it is to find matching hardwood? The original stuff was discontinued.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe go with something easier to clean next time. Tile. Vinyl. Something that doesn’t show blood.”

“You suggesting I’m gonna make a habit of bleeding in my closet?”

“With your track record? Probably smart to plan ahead.”

The banter steadied her breathing. Grounded her in something normal. Something that felt like home.

“You ready?” Blade asked after a few more minutes.

She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure. Ready for what? To face the destroyed bedroom? To relive what happened? To admit that her stalker had escalated beyond anything she’d prepared for?

Tori pushed herself to her feet, legs unsteady beneath her. She reached down and helped Blade up, his weight pulling her forward slightly as he rose. They moved to the edge of her bed, careful to avoid the glass scattered across the floor.

The bedroom looked worse in the light. Furniture overturned. Blood spatter on the walls.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Detective mode engaged.

She stared at that window. The torn screen fluttering in the night breeze. All her security measures had been useless. The motion sensors. The reinforced locks. The alarm system. None of it had mattered when the stalker had decided to come in while she slept. If he could get past all her defenses this easily, what else could he do? Where else could he reach her?

“I don’t know how he got in.” The words felt thick in her throat. “He might have been here. Under the bed, I think. Or in the bathroom. Somewhere he could watch me sleep.”

Blade’s gentle concern hardened into skepticism. She could read the calculation running behind his eyes.

Not possible. He’d swept the house. Checked every room, every closet, every potential hiding spot before he’d left. His search had been thorough. Military-grade systematic.

“Maybe he disabled the alarm somehow.” The words came out sounding weak.

“Was it the stalker?” Blade’s voice carried that detective tone now. Fact-gathering. Building a timeline.

She nodded. Yeah. Had to be. The voice was the same one from her bedroom. She’d know it anywhere. Who else would break into her house? Who else knew her routines well enough to time an attack when she was most vulnerable?

“Did you see his face?”

Tori shook her head, suddenly realizing she was standing there in a sports bra and running shorts. She wrapped her arms around herself. “He was wearing a mask.”

But she remembered the knife. Different than last time. Bigger. Not the same weapon he’d pressed against her throat in the gym parking lot. She really didn’t want to think about this right now. About what that escalation meant. About how close she’d come to bleeding out on her bedroom floor instead of hiding in her closet with a superficial cut.

But strength was returning. Flowing back into her limbs like blood returning to a sleeping hand. The warrior persona that had carried her through foster care. Through college and medical school, through her residency. Through every challenge life had thrown at her. She could feel it stirring. Ready to fight back.

Blade’s phone rang.

He pulled it out, glanced at the screen. Kiara’s picture glowed. His thumb silenced the vibration, and he reached to put it back in his breast pocket.

“Answer it.”

“Nah. It can wait.”

“Don’t you make her wait.” The words came out sharper than intended. “If you can take her call, you should always take her call.”

He looked at his phone like he was thinking better of it. Hesitation flickered across his features. He should jump at the chance to talk to Kiara. The woman he’d been dating for five months. The woman who made him talk in cutesy ways Tori had never heard before.

Finally, he swiped to answer. “Hey, you.”

As soon as she heard him say the words, she wanted to kick herself. What was wrong with her? Having him here, focused only on her crisis, felt like the first safe moment she’d had in weeks.

Kiara’s honeyed voice drifted through his way-too-loud volume setting, and the sound sliced through whatever fragile connection had been building between them.