Page 30 of The Phantom's Vice

It wasn’t like Jim’s usual advice. He’s a no-nonsense kind of guy, so it’s not uncommon for him to give me guidance in the form of a stern lecture, but this was different. It was a warning.

I don’t want to bury any more colleagues.

A shiver runs through me as I recall the words he murmured under his breath—words I’m almost positive I wasn’t supposed to hear.What does Jim know that I don’t? And why is everyone so desperate to push this case under the rug?

A scuff sounds out close by, and I jerk to attention, my eyes scanning the shadows wildly for threats while I clutch my thumping heart.

“Who’s there?” I demand, taking a step back as I continue scanning. Nothing. I shake my head, turning and stomping up the steps of my apartment. I keep checking over my shoulder, the hairs on the back of my neck raised with the sensation of being watched.

I jam the key into the lock, slamming my back against the door to close it and locking it tight. I rest the back of my head against the door with a sigh as Venom makes his presence known, rubbing up against my leg with several desperatemews.

“Hi, Venom,” I murmur, reaching down to scratch the back of his neck. He presses into my touch, and a blip of happiness lights my chest. “Imissed you too. Anything weird happen while I was gone?”

Venom mews, trotting off toward the bedroom as if trying to show me something.Ah fuck. That’s never good.

With a weary sigh, I follow him to the bedroom, bracing myself for whatever weird shit I’m likely to find. Only when I look around the room, the only thing out of place I see is a small white note on my nightstand.

Jesus, not again.

I throw my head back in a groan before retrieving the note, holding the thin white envelope between my thumb and forefinger like it’s a bomb—because, you know, it kind ofis.

“You can do this, Brett. How bad could it be?” I murmur, peeling open the front flap with my arms outstretched as far as possible from my body. Venom mews from the bed, causing me to jerk and nearly drop the note. I shake myself, taking a few deep breaths through my nose in an attempt to pull my shit together.

Like a Band-Aid, I rip the note from the envelope, letting out a little yelp in expectation for it to blow up in my hand. It doesn’t, though, and afteranother couple of breaths, I let my eyes tear across the neatly typed message.

Hell of a kiss, darling.

I gasp, dropping the note though there’s no heat like before.What the—he’smockingme?

“You dastardly bastard,” I grumble, watching the note until it inevitably bursts into flames.Hah. I’m catching on to your tricks, Phantom.I’m feeling pretty proud as I pull the red envelope from the pile of ash. That is, until I read what he wrote on the second note.

I can’t stop thinking about that little sound you made. I’ve been hard ever since.

“Ah!” I scream, jumping back as the note bursts into flames in the palm of my hand. I barely had time to read the whole message. If I were any slower, I would have missed it entirely.

Maybe that was the point.

I shudder, staring down at what used to be a letter from the Phantom. I can’t tell what his angleis. With all my training, I can’t seem to pinpoint a motive for this… this…

It occurs to me I don’t know exactlywhatto call this thing between us. Nor do I want to sit around and figure it out. Reaching into my nightstand drawer, I retrieve my bottle of sleeping pills and pop three in my mouth.

That should do the trick.I flick off the light, holding my arm out for Venom to snuggle up with my eyes open wide. A second later, I flick the light back on, then pull the pillow over my eyes, snuggling deep into my comforter like I would when I was a kid, when my only problems were the monsters in the dark corners of my closet.

If only someone had told me the truth—that I should have been fearful of those shadows all along.

That night, I dream of a man coming to my bedside. He kneels at my head, brushing my hair back impossibly gently with that hand made of fire. He whispers things to me—things too soft for me to hear. Yet they fill me with an unwavering sense of peace—of safety.

I let sleep curl its fingers around my drug-addledmind, allowing my senses to be filled with him. His scent, touch, and… taste. Mint, with an aftertaste of something smoky and sweet. Hardened muscles, twitching every place I allow my finger to roam. And then there’s his voice—that deep, melancholy voice that flows through me, heating my veins with a fire I’ve never known.

“Brett… Brett, I can feel you. I can’t believe I can feel you.”

But it’s not real. None of it is real, yet I have zero desire to wake from this fantasy. If I were to never wake again, this is the place I would like to rest. Eternity suddenly doesn’t seem so bad under these circumstances.

Fingers curl around my throat, and I think for one moment that this might be it. This might really be the end. Only, I don’t care. At this moment, I’m not sure if I ever did. I think—I think I’d like to finally slip into oblivion, or whatever it is that comes after death. I’ve been strong for long enough, and now I want to know what it feels like tolet go.

That’s why, when the black swallows me this time, I am not afraid.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

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