Page 102 of The Contract

Maybe I never noticed because I was too busy sobbing like some pathetic loser over a man who clearly couldn’t care less.

Then again, what did I expect from the man whose brother murdered Da?

He told me himself he’s a monster. To my face.

And stupid me, I didn’t believe him.

Before the next tear can fall, the shadow moves. Barely. It’s just a flicker, but enough to send ice trailing down my spine.

Sadness evaporates, and my tears dry up, mid-breath, replaced by the slow crawl of something colder.

Sharper.

Unease.

I go absolutely still.

Wide-eyed, I stare into the dark, like a prairie mouse catching the scent of a wolf.

My heart pounds with every fractional shift in the dark.

Thump-thump-thump.

I suck in a breath. For fucks sake, Riley, this is ridiculous. That’s it. No more true crime books before bed.

I yank the cord.

The blinds slam shut.

Normally, I sleep with the lights on—too many shadows, too many memories lurking in the dark. But lately, I’ve tempted fate, killing the lights and somehow drifting off without the usual suffocating panic clawing at my chest.

Tonight, though, I kill them for an entirely different reason.

Not to sleep. But to stare straight into the eyes of the bastard stalking me from the darkness.

And I have to know if he’s still out there.

Braver with the lights off, I pry two slats apart, just enough for a cautious peek.

Not only is he still there…he’s closer.

One step. Maybe two. His face is nothing but a shadow. One that’s angled up.

Toward me.

Definitely fucking watching me.

My heart stampedes like a racehorse’s hooves, battering my ribs in frantic rhythm.

A sudden noise slices through the silence—a sharp, startled yelp rips from my throat before I can clamp down on it. My phone screen blares to life on the nightstand, along with a flood of harsh light.

I whip my head back toward the window.

The car is gone.

And so is he.

My eyes rake the street, desperately dissecting every shadow, every whisper of movement.

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