Page 117 of Wicked Roses

I pop to my feet and exit, stepping onto the platform. Silence echoes around the terminal except for the whoosh from the subway and the advertisements playing on the monitors hanging throughout the station.

The streets aren’t much better. Centennial is one of the nicest neighborhoods in Northam. Most residents work during the workweek and are home by eleven or twelve at the latest. I walk the streets with my hands in my hoodie pockets. The lamp posts above cast a halo of light around me, so persistent it feels like the only other life force around.

That, and the distant buzz in more active parts of the city.

I make it to my building in no time, riding the elevator up to my floor. I’ll be sleeping soundly tonight. Doctor Keeney would approve in theory (until she found out why). I’m engaging in a hobby that decompresses me and gives me joy.

It brings mesolace. Each and every time I emerge, I’m comforted with the knowledge I’ve put one more sick predator out of his misery. The methods might be unconventional, and it might be extremely risky and dangerous, but I’ve gotten results. I’ve made a difference; something I’ve always wanted to do for the community.

The guy who assaulted me is still out there. I’ll probably never catch him. It no longer matters anymore—knowing I’m catching other men just like him is just as rewarding.

I sleep easier. No more nightmares.

I unlock the door to my apartment and immediately stop. Pepa waits for me, sitting right by the door, her eyes bright even in the dark. She meows and paws at my foot. I look up from her and into the shadows. Where’s Salt?

He wouldn’t be far out of reach if Pepa is by the door. They’re a packaged deal.

I drop my bag on the credenza against the wall and venture deeper into the dark apartment without flipping on a light. I don’t need to when I know exactly what to expect. As I pad down the hall and reach the living room, I stop.

I’m not alone. There’s a man sitting in the chair by the tall window, engulfed by deep shadows. Salt sits obediently in his lap as he strokes him.

“Hello, Salvatore.”