Page 18 of Desperate People

If they come near her?

If they so much as breathe in her direction?

Their worst fucking nightmares will look like bedtime stories.

Because I don’t hesitate.

I never fucking hesitate when it comes to her.

But the real fucking joke? Every goddamn time, it turns out to be nothing.

Just noise.

Empty fucking noise from people with internet muscles.

But those losers got jack shit in real life.

Still, I can’t stop.

Won’t stop.

She’s got me chasing shadows.

Running circles around my own damn logic.

And she doesn’t even know it.

She thinks I’m gone.

That I walked away.

But the truth is, I’m right here.

Always have been.

Always will be.

Watching.

Waiting.

Protecting what's mine. Whether she knows it or not is unimportant.

But maybe that’s for the best.

Because what the hell would she do if she knew I spend my nights hacking into her world and building silent walls around it?

If she knew I’ve got alerts set up for any mention of her name, any geo-tagged photo within a mile of her location?

If she knew I’ve got eyes on El Tigre, too?

Yeah. Him.

Rico fucking Véliz.

The glitzy, gold-dripping bastard who thinks writing a song gives him a claim.

I’ve got people tracking his movements.

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