Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
We can have it, baby. We can have all of it. Whenever you are ready. Just come to me and surrender. Let go of the anger and grief and let my love in. If you don’t, I will come for you and there will be no stopping the inevitable.
Love always,
Always watching.
The tear stains that have dried since the first read through last night, are replaced by new ones. Ones meant to cleanse me of a need for something I can never have. But instead. They make the yearning real. The pain of knowing I could but can never is unbearable, deplorable and suffocating. Especially when I want nothing more than him. Agent Callum. The one man with the power to put me away, because not only does he know who I am, he knows what I have done.
Four months ago, he came to my house, asking questions about the massacre. He questioned me for hours trying to pry as much information from me as he could. The thing is, at the time, I didn't know a fraction of what I do now. I had just begun my mission and had only killed two people at that point. So, there was nothing to tell him.
During the entire interrogation in my living room, I could feel his eyes begging me for something. Something I couldn't put into words and honestly, I wasn’t sure why they would be trying to elicit anything from me. He said my name several times and with each time, his voice would become heavy and emotional before he would clear it and seemingly put himself back together. The meeting confused me, but it also left me with a sense of…trust in him. Sounds dumb I know, but there was something in the conversation and his tone that told me he knew more than he was letting on, but he would never speak on it.
So, a sort of dance began with us. After each kill, I would leave my calling card, a playing card if you will of a dark angel, cloaked in black, hood overhead, face staring at the big black hole of her heart beneath her. The following day he would show up at my house, never asking me directly if it was me who committed the murder, but telling me he knew with his eyes and his patience. Then, hours later a letter would show up in my mailbox. He knows my secrets, but if he was telling them, I would already be locked up. Unfortunately for him he won’t be able to keep me safe or hide my secret for long. Eventually all the dots will be connected, and it will be over for me. I just pray my mission is complete when that happens, and the blood of my enemies is covering me when they come for me. Then, I will go in peace.
FOUR
CALLUM
ONE WEEK LATER
My life has become a country song. It's filled with sadness and regret. Longing and stolen moments never sought. An achy heart filled with so much I can't separate it. But, one thing always remains the same from the moment I saw it. The need to be her everything. Which is what is bringing me to the outside of her home, once again to drop off another letter, like always praying it finally brings her to me. Hell, she knows where to find me. I have been where I have been since I came to see her the first time. In the house across the street. Yeah you heard me. The minute I left her I used my weight to get the owner to sell his home to me. I moved in, set up surveillance everywhere so I can always watch her and be ready when she needs me.
Every time I think about it, I am disgusted at how low I have fallen. What I am doing is not stalking, but I am committing federal offenses. Like the one right now. “Breze, are you there?” Shit. I need to snap out of it.
“I’m here.” I tell my intelligence guy, who is down the block in an undercover van.
“Great. The comms are live. You can make the move now.” Cursing under my breath for what I am about to do, I get out of my car and ring the doorbell of the one person my girl still trusts.
“Miss DeSantis?”
“That depends on which one you are looking for,” she says, crossing her arms. I remember the first time I saw her file I was in disbelief; positive the agency was wrong in thinking someone this tiny and dainty could be a Mafiosa. She has definitely proved me wrong over the last few months.
“My name is agent Callum Debrieze. I am looking for Aurora DeSantis.”
“That’s me. How can I help you, G-man?” I can’t help but chuckle at the moniker.