“Thank fuck for that,” he glares.
Dino, hands in pockets, a little less moody as fuck looking, calls out as Lorcan walks out the door. “Don’t forget to take some penis straws.”
Since we’re alone in the house, Dino crawls into my bed just as I’m about to leave. I have to wait until Dino is asleep to extract myself from his embrace, which isn’t easy as the guy likes to hug all fucking night. But once he’s out cold, I dress in my black running gear and slip out into the night.
Stalkingprey is like planning a vacation. You research. You check out locations. You even ask around. You can’t change your plans at the last moment. It might go wrong. Timing is everything. It’s how not to get caught. I need to kill Joseph because there’s no one else lined up. Because If I don’t kill someone tonight, I am going to break.
That’s what Dante wants.
And I’m not giving that fucker anything.
I drive to where my PO Box is located. Inside it I find a package from Quinn containing the vials of fast acting insulin I asked for, an unmarked blood sample, and a thick padded envelope. I place all three in my backpack and trek back to my car. It’s cold enough that my breath fogs up the air as I breath.
I don’t know what it is about the cold, but it’s the only thing that makes me feel alive. Even the hum under my skin that makes my nerves itch and my insides churn, doesn’t come close. But tonight, there’s also a prickling sensation all over my scalp and the nape of my neck. A feeling of wrongness. A sensation of ill intent.
It makes me look around, scanning the shadows. Am I being watched?
Across the road is a gas station. It’s empty at this time of night. No one knows where my PO Box is, except for Quinn. And she wouldn’t tell Dante. Even if she is being forced to help Dante, I trust her explicitly.
It must be losing to Dante that’s unsettling me. It’s thrown me off my game.
The estate is dark and gloomy at 3.a.m, enough that I don’t worry about being seen as I hurry over to the garage door. The last time I was here, Saskia was slowly being poisoned to death in Lorcan’s car. Another Dante special. Killing remotely. Set everything up and leave your victim to die while you’re at home eating dinner. He doesn’t care about watching the light leave his prey’s eyes, seeing the realisation snap into place that someone they thought was weak and pathetic could actually hurt them. It’s the only element for me that eases my tainted soul. It’s my goddamn why.
I don’t get Dante’s why. I would ask him to explain. But we’re much too busy trying to fuck each other over.
One day, I’ll ask him.
Maybe before I cut out the light from his eyes.
I make my way through the house to Joseph’s rooms which are in the wing furthest from Lorcan’s according to Saskia. Since I was able to install the CCTV software as an app on my phone, I also know where the cameras are. It gives me a visual of every part of the house in glorious night vision and shows me where the blind spots are. It’s only when I’m just beyond the door to Joseph’s bedroom that I switch everything off and step inside.
The room is dark but I can make out Joseph’s resting silhouette on the bed. He’s imposing, even asleep. So if he wakes up, I’m screwed.
I approach, feeling in my pocket for a bag of powder—Devil’s Breath—a strong hallucinogenic and amnesiac from Columbia. When I get close enough, I take out the bag and blow a small amount of the powder over his face. I could tie him up, but that would leave ligature marks, and there needs to be no evidence that this was anything but an overdose.
When he doesn’t stir, I softly peel back the covers, looking for evidence of where he usually injects his meds. There’s a section on the stomach, three inches from the belly button, where there aren’t any nerves. Thank fuck he’s shirtless. It makes it easier to locate, and slide the needle in.
He grunts, and then opens his fucking eyes.
Fuck.
Adrenaline surges as he grabs my wrist hard. But it’s too late. The needle is designed to rapidly inject so I plunge it. He immediately throws me across the room.
I scrabble backward as he lurches to his feet.
Fuck. How am I going to get him back into fucking bed?
“What the fuck have you done?” he bellows, swaying.
Four minutes.
That’s how long I have before he’ll lose consciousness.
“You needed your medicine,” I say to him, hoping there’s enough Devil's Breath in his system to make him passive. “Get into bed,” I say softly.
He squints, trying to focus. “What’s happening?”
I get to my feet gingerly, picking the needle up, and walk back over to him. My heart is fucking racing. If I didn’t give him enough of the powder, he might kill me.