Page 149 of X Marks the Stalker
“What’s with the smile?” Zara asks, eyebrow raised.
“Nothing,” I say, but it’s everything. The man never mentioned checking on Zara, never breathed a word about helping her family. Nothing about rescuing a struggling Jamaican restaurant advances his murderous agenda or protects the Society. Yet he did it anyway—saw something that mattered to me and fixed it, expecting no recognition or gratitude.
Every time I think I understand Thorne, he reveals another layer. Steel-gray eyes that miss nothing, hands that orchestrate death without trembling, yet the same man whoensures my best friend’s parents keep their livelihood. Who helped Xander and me when we needed. His public face—controlled, calculated, dangerous—seems like armor protecting something unexpected underneath. Something almost...tender.
“Hey, Space Cadet.” Zara waves her hand in front of my face. “You disappeared on me.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, twisting my locket again. “Just thinking.”
The Hemlock Society began as a means to an end—a scoop for my newspaper. But somewhere between planning sessions and sharing meals, they’ve become something else.
Xander’s lingering glances. Lazlo’s hypochondriac humor. Calloway’s artistic obsessions. Ambrose with his ancient book quotations and military metaphors. Darius’s fantasy football disasters. They’re killers, yes, but also people with histories and quirks and unexpected kindnesses.
I’ve found a family in them. Something I’ve craved since I lost my parents. But it’s a family bonded by blood spilled rather than shared. Is this really what I’ve been looking for all these years?
“Enough about my parents’ miracle,” Zara says, studying me. “What’s going on with you? You seem different.”
I pop a French fry into my mouth. “Different how?”
“I don’t know. Like you’re here, but not here.” She narrows her eyes. “It’s not just the Blackwell thing, is it?”
My phone vibrates against the table. Xander.
“Who keeps texting you?” Zara tries to peek at my screen. “Is it sexy security guy?”
I angle the phone away. “Maybe.”
Xander
Do you have an answer for Thorne?
Not yet. I asked for more time to think about it.
Xander
Want to think about it over sex?
“You’re smiling at your phone,” Zara points out. “I haven’t seen that in...ever.”
Xander
Don’t drink too much.
I frown, scanning the bar. The booths along the wall, the crowded area by the dartboards, the bar itself where men in business attire unwind after work. No sign of Xander’s familiar face.
Are you stalking me?
Three dots appear immediately.
Xander
Always.
Something warm unfurls in my chest.
I set my phone down. “Sorry. Can I ask you something hypothetical?”
“Those are my favorite kind of somethings.” Zara steals one of my fries.
