Page 135 of Black Castle

“Tracker, camera, and motion detector.” Kenji lists out, his tone growing irritated at every word.

“Huh?” Vivienne doesn’t quite catch the words at first. What’s he saying? Tracker and motion what again? It doesn’t make sense to her ears. To be honest, anything that has gone beyond the axis of stylus, canvases, and brushstrokes is not comprehensible enough.

“He didn’t just put a tracker in the necklace. There was a camera too with a motion detector.” Kenji’s voice slices through the speaker like a blade, anger simmering in every word. “That fucking boyfriend or whatever the heck he is hasn’t just been tracking you, but he has also been watching you like a fucking creep and he records everything you say as far as it’s not a thought in your head.”

“What?!” Vivienne freezes in her seat, her eyes wide with horror. That doesn’t sound right. None of this makes any sense.

This is wrong, right? No one should ever think as far as stalking someone in such a manner. This is madness, insanity, everything that defines wrong and illegal.

“I told you I didn’t trust him,” Kenji says in a clipped tone. “I knew it. I just knew there was something off about that man.”

Vivienne opens her mouth. But when it feels like whatever she’s about to say will amount to an excuse, she snaps them shut.

What is all this madness? How did she find herself in this mess?

What if all along, they have both been playing games with her? What if this has always been a case of good cop back cop thing? One trying to act good to win her trust while the other sticks to using force as they wait for who amongst them gets to win her trust first? What if the one she thinks is human enough is equally as evil as the other?

What if it’s one person pretending to have two personalities just to toy with her?

As questions build a fortress in her mind, Vivienne feels a squeezing in her chest, her heart pounding so fast. Sweat coats her skin even though the temperature doesn’t demand such. She feels dizzy, a weight pressing into her skull.

She wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like.

“I’ve disabled them, though,” Kenji says, unaware of her mental turmoil. “Please stay away from him, Vee.”

“I can’t,” she murmurs softly, her teeth biting into her thumb, her body quivering. “I-I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” She almost jolts at the rise in Kenji’s tone. “That guy is crazy. He’s a creep and a fucking stalker. And for all we know, a killer, maybe. You should be a million miles away from him.”

“He won’t let me go,” she says, recalling all the cold promises Zev has whispered into her ears every time they were together. “He swore, Kenji. I don’t think they plan on letting me go.”

“They?” He sounds irritated but very confused. “What does that mean? Hey, what are you saying for God’s sake?”

Vivienne can almost imagine him pulling at his blonde hair again. Kenji has a very zero tolerance level. Little frustration sets him on edge.

“You don’t know anything,” she tells him. Indeed, he knows nothing. Neither does he know how deep she has walked into this perfectly woven web.

“Look, Vee…” He starts with that persuasive tone, like a therapist who is about to manipulate your thoughts. “You can leave him. You can report him to the cops. We can put a restraining order. Heck, we can even get him arrested. We still have the evidence.”

“He’s more powerful than you think.”

“He can’t be more powerful than the law,” Kenji counters.

“See?” She rises to her feet, crossing the room to her little vanity table where the sketch of Lucan that she just randomly made is, lifting it into her hand. “You don’t know anything.”

Indeed, he really knows nothing about Lucan Raskovic or Zev Raskovic. As Vivienne stares at the artwork that doesn’t come close to as perfect as how his creator has made him, she wonders, too; Did I ever really know you at all?

Chapter Forty-one

Vivienne

Why am I here in the middle of the night?” Vivienne’s voice is sharp and demanding, but it falters slightly as Zev steps out of the closet, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

It was 2:00 AM when she caught a shadow hovering over her window after rejecting ten of Zev’s missed calls. She had leaped out of bed, shaky hands pulling the curtains aside. And he was standing there, hiding in the shadow, lurking, like the reaper waiting for the clock to chime so he could slither in and take a soul.

He demanded that she come out, or he would find a way to come in. And when he does, he would make her scream.

And she didn’t want to scream, not while Carla was having a night vigil in the next room

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