Page 135 of Unholy Masks

“I know the Strangler is still out there somewhere, and he’ll come out of hiding soon.”

I didn’t miss the way she called the Strangler “him” in front of me. Yara was always careful around me. Always measuring her words and biting back the details. Trying to hide pieces of herself from me.

She turned toward Irene, and they shared a quick look. A silent conversation.

Being with Ryden had softened Yara’s instincts. Love had done what nothing else could—it had made her feel safe and secure.

The Yara I knew before would have found me. She would have followed the inconsistencies in my story, traced the lines between my lies, noticed the things that didn’t belong. She would have picked apart every silence until the truth bled through.

But not anymore. Not like this.

Her monsters had found a way to grow comfortable in the spaces between her fears. They no longer screamed loudly enough for her to hear them. They whispered, and she listened less.

To think she had once been so sharp, so impossible to deceive.

But love had made her weak. Love had made her human.

It had given her something to lose.

I pitied her for it. I pitied her for losing herself.

I waited by the kitchen as Irene walked in with a plate. She threw it on the sink and smiled.

“Enzo will deal with it,” she said when I arched a brow. “So, how are you doing?”

“I have no idea how I’m doing,” I said with a shrug. “One moment I feel like all is well, and the next moment, I’m afraid to even look through the windows. I know I can’t live like that.”

“I understand, I really do,” she said.

She didn’t tell me how she understood it, but it was probably because of me. I smiled. When I started this… I’d never have imagined myself in the kitchen with Irene Ricci, talking like we were old friends.

“You know what? I have a thing tomorrow.” She blinked. She blinked too much. God, I hated the way she blinked.

“You want to come with me? I am going to buy Yara some books.”

She was making this far too easy.

The prize would mean so much more if it was won through patience, manipulation, and perfect timing. There was no satisfaction in having the door held open.

“We can take Enzo with us if that’ll make you feel better,” she added when I didn’t answer.

I hated the way his name softened in her mouth. I noticed the slightest change in her voice, the color creeping into her cheeks.

She liked him far more than she should.

Fool.

“I’ll go,” I said. “Enzo needs a break from bodyguard duty anyway. He’s been doing so much. The guy needs some rest.” I smiled, and it worried me. The smile. It wasn’t calculated.

The realization unsettled me, but I crushed it quickly, as quickly as it had come.

Feelings were dangerous. Confusion was dangerous.

I had spent too many years building myself to let something as fragile as sincerity fracture the foundation.

“Thank you, thank you,” she smiled. “It’s going to be great.”

After knowing that a serial killer might be after her, it was foolish not to be careful. But not this fool.