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Luca excused himself to go and grab a smoke—it was the first time tonight I’d found something in common with him. I remained seated for another few minutes, because it would’ve looked bad if I’d followed him immediately. Besides, I didn’t want to be alone with him.
My first stop was the restroom, to wash my hands. I hated the feeling of something being on them, so I cleaned them frequently. The female restroom was right across from the male one, and I stopped in my tracks at the sight of smoke coming out of the slightly open door.
Luca wasn’t stupid enough to smoke inside a restaurant, was he?
I pushed the door open and whined in my head.
This couldn’t be happening to me, not again. I wanted to punch myself in the face for agreeing to come here. I took a deep breath and leaned against the door frame.
Luca lay on the floor, in a pool of his blood, with the bottom of his shirt on fire. Someone had shot him in the chest, and he’d died on the spot. The pool of blood was growing bigger and bigger, his eyes wide—fear obviously the last thing he’d felt—and his mouth ever so slightly open.
It wasn’t a pleasant sight.
I had two options—turn back around and pretend I hadn’t seen anything, or notify the restaurant staff. Given that there were cameras outside the restroom, directly pointed towards me, the latter option seemed best. The first one would’ve made me look suspicious.
As I was about to turn around and leave, something caught my attention. With slow steps, I approached the body, brows creased. I bent down and picked up the small item that rested right beside the place he lay.
It was another dice.
And this time, it was turned to number one.
F O U R
THIS was getting out of hand.
Not only had I managed to attract a stalker, but the man had killed someone. I was unsure whether or not it was because of me orforme. Before feigning distress and running towards the restaurant staff to alert them to the body, I picked up the dice and slipped it in my bra.
What? I didn’t have a pocket.
The police officers came after about fifteen minutes. I don’t know what annoyed me more—the questions that were irrelevant to the case or Tiana’s muffled cries. Why the hell was she crying? She’d met the guy twice and hadn’t seen the body. There wasn’t much to cry about.
Two police officers—whose names I didn’t bother to remember—were directing most of their questions towards me. Granted, I was the only person who’d seen anything, but the entire thing exhausted me.
They asked all the basic questions, and Nick provided no solid answers. No one, aside from me, knew who’d done it, yet strangely enough, the fact that Davorin—because that’s surely who it was—had murdered someone in cold blood didn’t faze me. Perhaps it was because I’d been surrounded by violence, death, and blood my entire life—I’d built quite a resistance to it. And something about it brought a sense of peace.
All three of us gave our contact information and would be called into the station to provide official statements. Not only was I never going to tire myself with that, but I wasn’t going to let Tiana do it either.
She had a fragile personality. Although she tried to put on a brave persona, after a while, I could see right through her facade. She was crumbling on the inside, and I knew the mere thought of death, let alone a brutal killing, was tearing her apart.
It took them an hour to release us, and Tiana drove us home. I didn’t care where Nick went, though I could tell Tiana was worried about him. She was silent during the ride, and as much as I hated starting conversations, I did try. She only offered short, emotionless replies. She was numb.
I offered to let her stay at my place for the night, but she declined and left to be with her parents for the evening. It was for the best—if she began to cry whilst in my presence, I wouldn’t know how to console her. The last time I’d cried was when I was fifteen.
The first thing I noticed when I got home was that some of my things were misplaced. I never misplaced my belongings. Each item had its place and was always returned to the exact same spot when I was done with it. But now the TV remote that used to be on top of the mantelpiece was on the couch, alongside the book I’d left neatly on the coffee table.
Strange sensations consumed me. I walked up the stairs, silently praying that my sheets hadn’t been changed. The silk sheets he’d chosen were comfortable, but they weren’t mine, and I didn’t like the feeling of sleeping in someone else’s sheets.
The sheets hadn’t been changed. But a bouquet of red roses sat on top of my bed. I ignored the oddness of that as I approached. I was surprised another dice hadn’t been placed somewhere, though I supposed this was just another game of his.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch in my brain. I froze, the small hairs on the back of my neck rising. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and squeezed my eyes shut.
He was here.
This was no longer an amusing game we were playing. Everything became very real, very quickly, and the thought of meeting the man who entered my home and left as he pleased irritated me. I should’ve told Aleksei about this.
Inch by inch, I turned my head to the right. My eyes opened of their own accord, and a piercing scream left my lungs. I stumbled backwards, almost falling flat on my ass.
It was him. The man from the club. The one with the mask.
