“Shadow, come here, boy,” a gruff voice that doesn’t sound at all like Sebastian’s, calls out.
My head snaps up, and my heart starts to pound. Someone’s in the apartment.
Shadow stands at the command and heads for the door but doesn’t leave the room. His ears perk, and his tail swishes lightly, but when he lets out a small bark, my heart jumps into my throat.
So much for keeping people out. He’s leading them right to us.
Sebastian said he wouldn’t be home until late. I don’t know the time or how long I was out—my mind is still foggy—but a glance out the window shows the sun still high in the sky. Who would be here? Sebastian mentioned something about the penthouse being watched, and there was the guy with the gun this morning, but even with this information, my mind goes straight for the worst.
What if he found me?
Scrambling out of the chair, I clutch my journal to my chest. Footsteps sound down the hall, and my body starts to shake, my feet frozen to the carpet.Move!This can’t be happening—how could he have found me here so quickly? It hasn’t even been a whole day.
Blood rushes through my ears, drowning out the nearing footsteps along with any hope of logic. I hate that he has the power to reduce me to this fearful, weak version of myself, but somehow, I manage to regain control of my body, and I start to move on unstable legs.
“There you are. What are you doing down here, hmm?”
My legs falter before I’ve barely made it two steps, and I take in the scene before me. A man with dark hair leans down to scratch behind Shadow’s ears, half blocked by the door, and I stand still while he continues, not noticing me. Shadow’s tail starts swishing faster, and my fingers tighten around my journal. Instead of being a guard dog, he laps up the attention, and I want to yell at him to do something.
As if only now realising someone else is in the room, the man lifts his head, and his movements pause. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise anyone was here,” he says, shock evident on his face.
I try to speak, except my voice is trapped in my throat. He doesn’t appear threatening, but that doesn’t mean anything. He could have been sent here for me, though that doesn’t explain how he knows Shadow.
The man’s features soften as if he can sense my uncertainty. “I’m Mason, Mason Taylor. I work security for the building.”
My gaze lowers to the badge on the left chest of his plain black suit jacket that seems to corroborate his story, but I don’t let go of my wariness.
“I take Shadow here out when I can while Mr. Reed is at the office,” he says, giving Shadow another pat, and the large dog’s tail thumps on the ground in response.
He looks to be maybe in his early-forties with a spattering of salt and pepper at the temples of his dark hair.Similar in age to what my father would have been now, and not for the first time, I wonder what he would look like today. Would he have the same salt and pepper running through his hair? His hair was lighter than mine, my dark brown hair a feature from my mother. He would always comment on how much I resembled her, but I had his eyes, though as much as I wanted to hold onto that connection to him, they were tainted now.
“O-okay,” I say, thankful it doesn’t come outasshaky as I feel on the inside, but it’s still missing the strength I like to hold onto.
He gives a soft smile, showing off the lines around his mouth that come with age. His calmness and kind hazel eyes tell me I don’t need to worry, and my instincts tell me I can trust him, but how can I be sure?
With a tap on the door frame, he says, “I’ll bring him back up shortly. Sorry again for disturbing you.” He doesn’t wait for a response before encouraging Shadow out of the room. Shadow hesitates for a moment but seems happy enough to go with the man,Mason.
He was surprised to find me here.
Does Sebastian bring women home often?
I’ve never seen him with another woman, but that doesn’t mean anything. The few times I was out late enough to see him come home, he was alone. Although not liking to stay out after dark, those times were few and far between. I didn’t even know about Shadow, so it’s entirely possible.
I can’t help the sharp ache those thoughts bring, especially while my mind struggles to return to reality so soon.
The fall is harder each time.
It’s one of the reasons I try to avoid my journal because I dread the day the silver webs of fantasies aren’t enough to catch me, and I don’t know what I’d be without them.