Page 7 of Painted Scars
Fuck them. I peel my eyes from the screen before I do something stupid like blink too slowly, and they interpret it as a sign that we’re soul mates.
“Who is she?” I croak.
Grayson pulls up her driver’s license, college degree, bank statements, and an article she published in the Shadow Lake Central.
But all I can see is her. She shouldn’t matter. But she does. A glitter-dipped liability with secrets under the gloss. If I look away, she’ll steal the sunlight and fill the sky with darkness.
“Kate Williams.” My blood runs cold at Grayson’s words. “Daughter of Charles Huntington, head of the Mercury Order.”
The throb in my temple picks up tempo as I lean forward. Different hair. Color and confidence. Louder. Sharper. Unapologetic. Same eyes, new fire. And a Roman, apparently. Bloodline. Legacy.
Katar stiffens. Silence and stillness are bad signs. Murder mode’s activated, and I can feel the bloodlust radiating off him.
I clamp a hand on his bicep. “You good?” I can’t have him kill a lead before we’ve had a chance to investigate it.
He blinks. Glances at the doorway and back at our reflection in a blank monitor. Smiles that lunatic smile. “Fine.”
He’s not, but I’ll take it for now.
Grayson grips the edge of the table. When Katar gets like that, it sets him on edge.
I redirect the conversation to re-center them. “I want everything on her. History, aliases, habits, weak points. I want to know what she wants, who she answers to, and why the hell she’s posting dick mugs on TikTok while Rome burns.”
Grayson nods and lets the video run its course to share more information.
Kate runs a stalker romance book club. She and her friends list the books they’re reading.
Stalker Next Door.
Carnival Stalker.
My Grumpy Mafia Stalker.
Spank Me, Daddy Stalker.
Werewolf Stalker for the Holidays.
That one ruined Christmas for me.
Katar seems back to his usual self when he hits me with the back of his hand and points at the screen. “There’s one about you. Grumpy Stalker.”
Asshole.
Kate rambles on about morally gray men like she wants to marry one.
“What in the absolute fuck?” I mutter and run a hand through my hair.
This is more than weird. Unhealthy. Deranged. Fucking triggering. Faces from old cases flash in my mind. Women stalked, murdered, ignored by the system built to fail them.
“I’ve seen enough.” I lean forward, hands over my face.
Grayson ends the video with a click. “I’m sorry, August. I didn’t think?—”
Katar thumps me on the back.
I don’t respond. Can’t.
After a long beat, I straighten and look between them. “I want each of us on one woman. We tail them. In person.”
