Page 132 of X Marks the Stalker
Oakley turns to me, pupils dilated to black holes, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. A spray of Blackwell’s blood paints her cheek like macabre war paint.
Most gorgeous vigilante murderer ever.
“We did it,” she corrects, her voice shaky but sure. “Years waiting for this moment.”
I reach out, thumb grazing her cheek, smearing the blood rather than removing it. Something primitivestirs in my chest at the sight. Marking her. Bonding us together through this act of justice. Or murder.
Semantics, really.
She crashes into me, her mouth finding mine with the desperate intensity of someone breaking the surface after nearly drowning.
Lazlo’s voice shatters our moment, crackling through the comm with his signature terrible timing. “Congrats on the most twisted first date milestone in history—murdering the guy who killed your parents! Welcome to the Hemlock family. Very touching moment, truly beautiful, but security’s sweeping the building floor by floor looking for the offender, which is yours truly. They’ll reach the penthouse level soon.”
Oakley pulls back, a wild laugh escaping her. “Is he always like this?”
“Lazlo has a PhD in mood-killing,” I reach up and switch off both our comms with a decisive click.
“What are you doing?” Oakley whispers, eyes widening.
The silence rings between us. My hands shake slightly as I cup her face.Just in case I don’t make it out of here...
“I need a moment without our cheerful audience,” I say, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite stick. “Security’s coming, and I need to tell you something.”
Her eyes search mine, vulnerable beneath all that fierce determination.
“Xander—”
“I love you.” The words tumble out, raw and unfiltered. “Not because we just committed homicide together, though that’s certainly a unique bonding activity.” I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “I’ve loved you since you looked directly into my camera and called me out.”
Her breath catches. I press my forehead against hers.
“I’ve spent my life observing people from a distance. Studying them. But you’re the first person who ever really saw me in return.”
A tear cuts through the blood on her cheek. “Xander, I?—”
“We’ll talk more when this is over,” I say, heart hammering against my ribs. I can’t bear to hear her response now. Not if it’s not what I hope for. “Now comes the fun sequel—escaping without becoming headline news.” I nod toward the ventilation shaft. “You need to go. Now.”
Her eyes dart around the panic room. “Where will you hide?”
“Don’t worry about me.” I disentangle from her embrace and guide her toward the ventilation shaft. “I’ll figure something out. You need to get to that restaurant before anyone notices you’re missing.”
“But—”
“No time to debate,” I say. “Darius is waiting to establish your alibi. If you’re not there when security finds the body, this all falls apart.”
Her eyes scan the room one more time, recognizing the lack of hiding spots. “There’s nowhere for you to?—”
“I’ll manage,” I say, already lifting her toward the vent. “Trust me. But you have to leave right now. Every second counts.”
She grips my wrists, fear flashing in her eyes. “What if they find you?”
“They won’t.” I boost her higher. “Remember the plan? Forty-eight hours, tops. Then I’m out. I have supplies. Don’t worry.”
She hesitates just a moment longer, then she pulls herself into the vent, looking back over her shoulder. “Forty-eight hours. If you’re not out by then?—”
“I will be.” I stretch up to kiss her one last time. “Now go. Security’s moving fast. They can’t see you on this floor.”
With one final, intense look that punches straight through my chest, she disappears into the shaft of darkness. I listen to her movements fade, then force myself to focus. Emotions later. Survival protocols now.
