Page 58 of Fatal Pattern

One day, Kiara would draw that line. One day the ultimatum would come.

Maybe that day was today.

Blade would choose Kiara. How could he not? The man had earned peace after everything life had thrown at him. A quiet home. Kids chasing a golden retriever through a backyard. Dinner that didn’t come from a takeout bag. She could step aside for that.

She just hadn’t pictured Kiara as the one handing him that dream.

Kiara was too . . . soft. Too removed from the ugliness he faced every day. He needed someone who understood the darkness, who could stand beside him in it.

Someone like—

Tori froze. “Like me?”

She shook her head. Stupid. The two of them? That was crazy talk. She had to pull her thoughts back to work. That’s what mattered right now.

She cracked the bedroom door, peering through the narrow gap. Blade leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee with his shoulders locked in a straight line that screamed damage control. Kiara was nowhere in sight.

“Coast clear?”

“Yep.”

She settled back at the island and opened her laptop. The same man who could stare down armed suspects without blinking had been wholly derailed by a pastry bag and whatever had happened with it.

“I’m sorry. That was—”

“You were right.” He set the mug on the counter and stared at the dark swirl inside. “Except I didn’t end it. She did.”

Her mouth wouldn’t form words. Ended it? That gentle, perfect woman?

“What? No, Blade—”

“It’s fine.” He turned toward the sink, rinsing his mug. “Better this way.”

“It’s not fine. You love her.”

“Love? No.” He slapped the water faucet off and spun around. “And I want you to drop it, Tori.”

The finality in his tone slammed the door shut on any argument she might make.

But she knew him. The dismissal was his way of shoving the pain down deep where it couldn’t interfere with the job. It was eating him alive, and she couldn’t let him stay in that headspace. She needed her partner sharp, focused. They had work to do. A brother to find, Florek’s murder to solve.

Time to speak the only language they both understood.

She grabbed her legal pad and placed it on the counter in front of him. The lattice diagram she’d sketched earlier covered the page. Boxes and arrows connecting their three active cases.

“Look at this.”

His eyes locked onto the diagram, and she watched him shift into work mode.

“We’ve got three cases,” she said, pointing to the labeled boxes. “Crew murders, Florek homicide, stalker. All connected one way or another.”

She tapped the stalker box. “The file says Nikos showed aggression, obsession with knives, paranoia. My stalker has similar traits and attacked me with a knife both times. But he didn’t just attack—he studied me first.”

Blade leaned closer, his focus sharpening. “The waiting. The watching.”

“Exactly. Classic paranoid behavior but organized. Methodical.”

“The file says Nikos has schizophrenia. But stalking requires control. Planning. How does that fit?”