Page 18 of Love Me Stalk Me
A slow breath, then a quiet, "I know."
But she doesn't say it like she believes it.
So I make sure she does.
I lean forward slightly, forearms resting on the desk. "I'm always watching. If you ever need an out, you signal me."
She swallows. "How?"
"Just say my name."
Her breath catches. The implication is clear—I'll be there. I'll intervene. I'll protect her.
Then she nods. "Okay."
She finishes eating, tosses her napkin, checks the time on her watch.
"I should head out," she says.
I nod, standing as she gathers her belongings. "I'll walk you to your car."
She shakes her head, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "That's okay. I know you'll be watching on thecameras anyway."
She's not wrong.
She hesitates in the doorway, looking back at me. "Thanks. For the food. And for..." She waves a hand, like she's trying to find the right words.
For making sure she eats.
For making sure she's safe.
For making sure she'sseen.
I nod. "Anytime."
She steps into the hall, disappearing from view. Her footsteps fade as she walks away, leaving me alone with the evidence of our shared meal.
I watch until she's gone, then make my way back to the security room.
Back to her digital life I now have access to.
I should stop.
But I already know—I'm never going to.
WINE. AI. REGRET COMING SOON.
IZZY
The airin the parking garage is thick and still. Normally, I'd be hyper-aware of my surroundings, glancing over my shoulder with every step, keys gripped between my fingers like some flimsy kind of defense. I'd rush through this concrete maze, my heels clicking too loudly against the pavement, drawing unwanted attention to myself.
But tonight, I don't feel the usual unease that comes with walking through this space alone. My shoulders aren't drawn up to my ears, and my pulse isn't racing in that familiar way it does when I'm alone in poorly lit places. Instead, I walk with an unusual calm, letting my bag swing gently at my side.
Because I know he's watching.
It should unnerve me—knowing someone is tracking my every move, watching me cross the garage, following me through the security cameras mounted overhead. But it doesn't. Instead, it settles a fear deep inside me that I hadn't even realized was constantly simmering beneath the surface. Being watched has never felt comforting before, but now it does, and I'm not entirely sure what to make of that.
I ease into the car, shutting the door with a sigh. The faint scent of vanilla clings to the air, a quiet comfort. My muscles ache, my body sinking into the seat like it finally has permission to stop. I rest my head against the headrest and breathe, letting the stillness wrap around me.
