Page 266 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

Six sites tonight, six coordinated raids, and at one of them—the informant swears it—the man behind it all will finally show his face.

Six chances to end it. Six chances to catch a ghost.

But even now, even with the adrenaline humming under my skin, my mind keeps drifting.

To Poppy.

It’s been days. No calls. No messages. No glimpses of her storming into the precinct with Dexter on her hip and murder in her eyes.

I tell myself it’s fine. That she just needs time.

I tell myself she’s safe, tucked away in that little house with her ridiculous pink dog and her security system that even I can’t breach anymore.

She needs space, and I’ll give it to her. Even if it’s killing me.

She’s furious. Hurt. Scared of me in ways she never was before.

And she’s right to be.

I lied.

I crossed every line worth crossing.

I broke every promise I never even had the chance to make.

But I love her.

I love her so much it feels like an open wound inside my chest, something raw and throbbing that no amount of distance can cauterize.

She’ll come back when she’s ready.

When she’s figured out that no one else will ever love her the way I do.

No one else will ever see every twisted, bloody part of her and call it beautiful.

I have to believe that, because if I don’t?—

If I even start to let myself imagine a future without her?—

The comm crackles, yanking me back. “Two minutes to breach. Stay sharp.”

I nod, even though no one’s looking, my focus snapping back into place like a blade sheathing itself.

Six sites.

Six doors about to come down.

Six opportunities to find the man at the top.

He’s out there. Tonight. In the open.

Finally vulnerable.

There are too many involved in this ring, in the corruption, for us to have confidence this raid didn’t get leaked. The only thing we have to our advantage is the time.

It’s not part of the warrants or the subpoenas the DA had to beg Judge Carter to sign. But we made sure to talk about what time the raids would begin. Spread it around like wildfire that they’d be hit one at a time and fall like dominoes.

We’re hours early—and we’re hitting them all at once. Hopefully these assholes think they have more time to clean things up than they really do.

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