I reach for the Colt 1911 that’s permanently under my pillow, raising it before I even open my eyes. I’m so used to the dark that it only takes seconds for my vision to adjust and make out the figure standing over my bed. The very same figure who is presently on the wrong end of my barrel.

“Uncle Josh? What the fuck are you doing sneaking in here? Are you trying to get yourself shot?” I ask before lowering the gun.

“Get up. We’re having breakfast,” he orders, then pivots on his heel and storms out of the room.

Fuck. Being woken up by Uncle Josh is like being woken up by the Grim-fucking-Reaper. No nightmare I ever had as a kid could compare. Worse yet is having to deal with a grumpy, moody-ass McKinley. Which is exactly the state I’ll find him in if I don’t get my ass out of bed and over to the breakfast table.

It’s not unusual for my uncle to drop in and check in on me. It is unusual for him to not call and make arrangements first, though. I throw the blankets off and climb out of bed, walking my naked ass into the closet, where I pull on a pair of grey sweats and a black shirt. Before I go in search of the man in question. When I reach the dining room, I find Uncle Josh and Bree sitting at my dining table. Groaning, I head for the coffee pot and pour myself a huge mug before dropping down next to my cousin.

“Is there a reason for this early-morning visit, or did you just miss me?” I ask Uncle Josh.

“I was in town visiting Bree, so imagine my surprise when I found out my one and only nephew has lost his fucking mind and is stalking the daughter of Gerry Christianson,” he grunts.

My eyes narrow in on Bree. “You told him?”

“Nope, wasn’t me,” she says with a smirk.

“Wait, you knew about this?” My uncle turns his glare on his daughter this time.

“I know nothing, Dad,” Bree says, that smirk gone and her expression now stoic.

“You’re lying, but I can’t fault you for your loyalty to your cousin,” Uncle Josh tells her.

“Okay, first of all, I’m not fucking stalking anyone,” I deny, knowing full well what I’m doing could be classified as stalking. I guess. If you want to get technical about it.

“Dominic, the disappearance of a Christianson child will not go unnoticed,” Uncle Josh says like I need a lesson on Lucy’s lineage.

Disappearance? What the fuck is he talking about?

And then it clicks. “Wait. You think I’m going to do something to her?” I ask him.

“I know you better than you know yourself. Tell me you haven’t thought about getting rid of her,” he says.

I open my mouth to argue with him, but then I think about all the fantasies I’ve had, all the ways I’ve envisioned ending her life by my hands. The many times I’ve stood over her sleeping form and thought about what it would feel like to wrap my palm around her throat and watch her struggle beneath my grasp…

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Uncle Josh pushes.

“I’ve thought about it. I would never actually do it though.” I shrug.

“Why not?” Bree asks from where she’s still seated beside me.

“Because the urge to protect her is stronger than the urge to hurt her,” I tell them simply.

Uncle Josh stares at me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crack. Waiting to see if I’m lying or not. “Okay,” he says finally. “But there are only so many bodies I can make disappear for you, Dom. And they are beginning to pile up down here.”

“I haven’t done anything to anyone who hasn’t deserved it,” I’m quick to counter.

“Okay, so tell me, what were their crimes, exactly?” He lifts a brow in question.

“They looked at her… They touched her… They thought about looking at or touching her…”

“Holy shit, you’re fucking insane, Dom. You can’t go around killing dudes because they just so happen to look Lucy’s way. Have you seen her? God, if I weren’t with Ash, even I’d shoot my shot,” Bree says.

“Breanna, language,” my uncle scolds before turning to me. “Dominic, you need to rein in your shit. I’m not going to be the one consoling your mother when you end up behind bars.”

I grin. As if a McKinley would ever end up behind bars. Our reach is far too wide for that to ever happen. “Okay,” I tell him. I mean, I’d say anything to get this breakfast over with.

“How’s school going?” My uncle is quick to change the subject.

“Perfect scores.”

“That’s not what I asked. How’s the school? Do you like living here? You know you can come back to Sydney,” he offers.

“I know. But I like it here just fine.”

“Mmhmm. At least Breanna has someone local when she visits. Which is a lot lately.” Uncle Josh’s eyes flick between us before landing on my cousin again.

“I’m usually with Ash, Dad. I’m hardly ever alone.” Bree shakes her head.

“Ash isn’t a McKinley.”

“But we love him all the same anyway,” she replies with a grin, and once again, I can’t hold back my laughter.

Ash is my cousin, just as much as Bree is. It’s fucking weird as hell seeing them together. I’m still not used to it.

“He could have at least left Faith behind. I thought I was going to get to see both of you,” Uncle Josh grunts. Faith is Bree and Ash’s daughter, and probably one of my uncle’s favourite people—other than his wife and daughter, of course.

“I’m going home tomorrow. I had stuff I needed to get done. What was I meant to do? Tie Faith to my chest while I worked?” she huffs.

“I did it with you,” he counters.

“That’s because you have issues letting go. I don’t.” Bree smiles proudly.

“So that isn’t the nanny cam you’ve hidden in Faith’s room that you’re streaming on your phone right now?” I ask, looking at the screen that’s lit up on the table between us.

“Shut up, Dom. No one asked you, stalker boy,” Bree grinds out.

I shrug. Her insults don’t hit the way she’d like them to. Nothing ever has. I’m not easily affected by anything. There is one person who can evoke emotions in me, however, and that’s my mother. Well, I guess two people. Because Lucy Christianson sure does stir up… something.

Bree’s little invasion of privacy reminds me of my own, and before I know it, I’m pushing to my feet and walking out of the room. “I’ll be right back,” I call out over my shoulder as I make my way to my bedroom.

I pick up my phone and see a message from my Little Bee.

BEE:

If you plan on releasing a recording of me from last night, think again. Because if you do, I WILL find you and I WILL make you wish you were never born.

I type out a response as I head back to the dining room.

ME:

I will cut the ears off anyone who even tries to hear you come. That sound is mine, and I don’t share.

I pocket my phone, reclaim my seat at the table, and dig into the plate that’s been placed in front of me—likely courtesy of my cousin. My uncle would have made me serve myself.

“How long are you in town?” I ask him.

“A couple of days, why?” He narrows his eyes at me. The man always thinks I’m up to something. I mean, I usually am. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I was thinking of buying a place. You should come and check it out with me.”

“This house not big enough for one person?” he asks with a raised brow.

I might have gone overboard when I bought this place, but it’s small compared to the monstrosity I grew up in. “I’m looking at a hobby farm,” I tell him.

“Of course you fucking are. Why?”

I smirk, because I knew it would pique his interest. “I miss the country.” I shrug. “I’m heading there this afternoon. I’ll flick you through the details.”

“Fine. But I swear to fuck, Dominic, if your mother finds out I helped you buy a farm, you’ll be the pigs next meal.” He points a finger at me.

“I won’t say a word.” I laugh. There are only two people in this world who actually scare my uncle: his wife (my Aunt Emmy) and his sister in-law (my mother). Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

AFTER MY UNCLE and cousin finally leave, I walk into my home office and fire up the monitors with the live feed of Lucy’s apartment. I search every camera for her, but she’s not there.

“Where are you, Little Bee?” I ask aloud as I log in to the GPS tracking on my computer. I search the one in her car first. It shows me she’s at the library. Pulling up the clone of her phone, I read through her messages to see if she planned to meet anyone there or if she’s alone.

I don’t see anything that suggests she has company. The last message I read is one from her brother. She asked if she could stay at his place tonight, to which he replied yes. I fucking hate it when she doesn’t stay in her own apartment. I don’t have access to her when she’s not there. Though, truth be told, it’s probably my fault she doesn’t want to be alone.

I walk into my bathroom and turn on the hot water. After a quick shower, I dress in a pair of black jeans and a black shirt. If I can’t see her tonight, I’ll settle for seeing her now.

I pick up my wallet and phone. I have a stop to make on my way to the library. I noticed the vase of flowers was missing from her kitchen counter, so I decide on one tulip this time. It’s all I need to let her know that I’m still here. That she can’t escape me.

Because I won’t let her.

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