Tempted by Sin

Paetyn's POV

"How is she doing on the new medication? There haven't been any complications, have there?"

Dr. Charles Barney shakes his head. Strands of thin silver hair fall over his pale brown eyes. He makes no move to push them out of his line of sight, instead choosing to ignore their existence and look down at the chart gripped firmly in his hands. "As of right now, she's responding well to the chemotherapy, but we will ensure we keep a close eye on her at all times. If anything goes wrong with the process and we need to go down a different path of treatment, you'll be the first to know, Paetyn. The cancer is different this time. Stronger. But... we'll figure it out."

I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Knowing that Mom is being taken care of by the wonderful team at the hospital, led by Dr. Barney, brings a sense of peace I have been searching for since the moment she was admitted many months ago. Taking care of a parent is hard enough for anyone because they don't want to see their loved one in a situation that requires such care from their child. But it's a whole different ballpark taking care of a cancer-filled parent who loves you too much to want you to see them like that-sick and afraid.

Mom knew something was wrong with her for quite some time before she decided to go in and get tested to see what was going on the first time she started feeling bad, about five years ago. She was a busy woman with a corporate job in marketing, going on dates after my father left her a few years before that, with a jam-packed social life. A woman like that doesn't want to admit that something is wrong with her. To admit that is to realize that the life you once knew, filled with fun and exciting times, was probably never going to be the same again. She beat cancer once before, but now it is back with a vengeance.

"Thank you," I say softly, forcing a smile. It's hard to smile when my mom is going through chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. "Knowing you're taking care of her puts my mind at ease, so thank you."

Dr. Barney pats my shoulder, his smile tight. "It's no problem, really. Your mother is in good hands with us." He stands upright, his eyes focused on mine. In an apologetic tone, he says, "These treatments are very expensive but well worth it."

I swallow hard, trying not to reveal the worry that zapped through my body seeing the amount of digits at the end of the bill I'd recently received. We've managed to pay all the previous bills, with the help of my fiance, but it is still scary every time I get a massive bill like that. "Yes, they are expensive. Rest assured that the bill will be paid on time."

Dr. Barney nods uncomfortably. I'm sure he wasn't trying to imply I wouldn't pay the bill, but I've always been touchy about such things, especially since Mom's insurance had lapsed right before she was diagnosed.

Before the doctor can respond, a nurse taps him on the shoulder, calling him away to another patient. He bids me goodbye before rushing away in the opposite direction. I watch the back of his head until he's no longer in view. He's a rather young-looking man, possibly in his late to mid-forties. But the gray hairs indicate how much he has aged from this job, which is fair enough. Working in the healthcare sector is no easy task.

I hesitate before entering my mom's room. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing, not wanting her to see the stress and worry I'm sure is written all over my face. Mom is a strong person, so I need to be the same.

The door to the private room creaks open. Mom is propped up in bed watching television, her pale blue eyes focused on the tiny screen protruding from the wall opposite her. She mindlessly braids the ends of her blonde hair before untying the knots and starting again. It's a habit I've seen her do many times when I was a child. After three rounds of chemo, her hair is starting to thin considerably and is falling out in places, but it doesn't stop her from playing with what hair she does have left. When she loses all of her hair completely, she will have to find something else to fidget with.

As I walk further into the room, her eyes snap to meet mine. They light up instantly, and a smile curves her plump lips. "My sweet, Pae. I thought I wasn't going to see you today."

I pull out the chair beside her bed and settle down, ignoring how cold the plastic feels against my clothed thighs. One of the things I despise most about hospitals is how goddamn cold it is here. Would it kill them to turn the heat up a little? Especially during winter.

"I managed to get off work early and thought I would stop by to see you." My eyes scan over the white hospital gown hanging off her frail torso and the crease lines forming at the corners of her eyes and lips. She appears much older and more frail than a normal fifty-year-old woman. Having cancer will often do that to a person. "How are you feeling after this round of treatment?"

Mom waves me off with her hand. "I'm fine, sweetie. You don't need to worry about me. The team here are taking great care of me." She shifts in her spot and reaches out for my hand, which I gladly extend. She feels warm in my grasp, reminding me of when I was a little girl and would only find comfort in the touch of my mother's hand. I still feel that way even as a twenty-six-year-old woman. "Tell me what's new with you. How's work and that fiance of yours?"

"Work is fine. I have gained a lot of new clients over the past few weeks due to our other office branch closing, so that has been keeping me busy."

She smiles. "You're such a hard worker, Pae. Always have been. I remember when you were just ten years old, you told me how much you wanted to help people. I thought at the time you meant as a medical doctor or something. Turns out you are an up-and-coming psychologist in New York City. You're so close to making it big, sweetheart. I couldn't be prouder."

"It's nothing, really." I love to hear my mother's praises as she has always been my number one supporter all through high school, university, and the many placements I had to do to get to where I am now. But at the same time, I don't enjoy talking about myself in that way. I'm proud of myself, don't get me wrong, but I'm more of a quiet achiever.

"How is Liam?" She changes the subject upon seeing my reluctance to talk about myself and my career. "I haven't seen him for a little while. Is everything okay?"

Ah, yes. Liam. My fiance.

"He's good. Just busy with the campaign. I'm sure you've seen him a lot on the news lately." The smile on my face doesn't quite reach my eyes speaking about my fiance. "He did ask me to tell you hello. With his campaign in full swing at the moment, he finds it hard to get away from the campaign trail on time most days. But we're doing good."

"How is the wedding planning?" she asks, giddiness in her voice. "I know I haven't been able to help as much as I would like to, but just know that I'm always here to offer any advice you may need." She licks her lips and squeezes my hand gently. "Believe it or not, your father and I had a wonderful wedding. We may have gotten married young, but we still had the best night."

The mention of my father sends a jolt of hurt straight to my heart, cracking at the edges just a little more. Him leaving my mother three years ago for a woman he worked with hurt more than I thought it would. Not only did he have an affair, but he chose to cut us both out of his life because his new girlfriend told him to. The fact that he was willing to do it, to never speak to his wife or daughter again one random Tuesday afternoon, was heartbreaking. I couldn't believe it.

My mom put on a brave face for both of us, but I could see how deep his betrayal went. She was good at hiding her feelings from everyone around her, but I could read her like a book. She was hurt and angry. But she hid it from everyone, not wanting to appear weak or broken. But I knew how she really felt. He hurt us both, but at least we had each other to lean on.

"Well, we're still trying to figure out what flavor cake we want and how to arrange the flowers," I say. "Any suggestions on what we should do?"

A smile lights up her face as she begins talking about different cake options and flower arrangements we could go with based on what she did for her wedding and the many articles she has read while lying in this hospital bed. Although I'm terrified for her and what her future will look like, the comfort and peace I feel at this moment, talking and laughing together like nothing is wrong, is enough to distract me from reality lurking in the corner of the room.

***

The cold wind slaps against my cheeks and nose the moment I step through the front doors of the hospital. Winter in New York City means freezing temperatures at night that require many layers of clothing to bring even a sliver of warmth to your cold body. It's one of the many reasons why I tend to rush home after work. I would much rather be cuddled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace than shivering in the light dusting of snow falling from the sky.

But seeing my mom was important. I would do anything for her, even brave the freezing temperatures.

The parking lot is almost empty as I trudge toward my car, my arms wrapped tightly around my chest to create some warmth. When I arrived after work, the lot was jam-packed with cars, forcing me to park at the very back in one of the last free spaces. While it is annoying having to walk so far to the front doors, I am grateful for the moments of silence it gave me before having to face Dr. Barney. But now I'm just cold, tired, and ready to get home.

When my car comes into my line of sight, a cold shiver races down my spine, stopping me in my tracks. The shiver isn't caused by the wind and snowflakes lashing across my skin. No, that kind of shiver is caused by unwanted eyes watching from the shadows. Stalking, even. The kind of stare that makes a person's entire body freeze with fear.

My heart hammers harshly against my rib cage as my eyes slowly scan the parking lot. The area is mostly dark besides the few street lamps illuminating the large space. There are plenty of dark areas for someone to hide in, waiting for me to get close enough so they can snatch me up and steal me away without anyone noticing.

The thought sends another chill racing down my spine.

Without so much as thinking through my next movements, I take off running toward my car, not caring if the person watching me follows too. All I need to do is get to the safety of my car and lock the doors, shutting them out completely. It's not much of a plan, nor is it a smart one, but it's the only option I have. There is not a chance I'm going to risk staying out here with whoever is lurking around.

Blood rushes in my ears as I race toward my little black 2009 Nissan. The headlights flash at me as I use the key fob to unlock the car. My fingers shake as I yank the door handle harshly and slide into the comfort of the front seat. Within seconds, the locks slip into place, and silence settles over me.

Adrenaline coursing through my veins has my heart beating erratically. Scanning the parking lot, I don't see any signs of movement. I frown, wondering if I had made up the feeling of someone watching me. But that doesn't make sense because the shiver I felt down my spine has never failed me in dangerous or uncertain situations.

Just when I think I'm going crazy, ready to convince myself I dreamt up the entire scenario, my eye catches someone standing under the dim streetlamp across the parking lot. I squint in an attempt to get a better look at whoever it is I'm seeing. The outline appears to be that of a man, but he's unmoving, his body as rigid as a statue. From where I'm sitting in my car, his face is covered by something, concealing his features. A mask, maybe?

"What the hell?" I murmur, unable to believe what I'm seeing. My heart races so fast I fear it might burst through my chest and land on my lap.

It's when the man tilts his head to the side, his body facing my direction, that I realize this man is watching me and not just an innocent person waiting for someone to come out of the hospital.

Oh, shit.

My fingers fumble the car keys in my hand, shaking so badly that my whole body begins to vibrate. With some effort, I slide the key in and twist, roaring the cold engine to life. I don't bother waiting for the car to warm up before my foot presses down on the gas pedal, lurching my car forward.

I try not to look at the person watching me from across the lot, but curiosity gets the better of me. As I'm about to turn out of the exit lane and onto the main road, I catch sight of the mask covering his face, my blood running cold. The base of the mask is black with dark red crosses over the eyes and what appears to be stitching over the mouth, set into a wide, menacing grin.

Even as I speed out of the parking lot, my tires screeching as I go, I still feel his eyes piercing through my skin, my soul. Exhaling a shaky breath, I glance in the rearview mirror to see he's still watching me.

Paetyn's POV

My heart rate hasn't slowed down since the incident in the parking lot. Even as I drive further away, leaving the man standing under the streetlamp in my rearview, my heart continues to pound painfully against my rib cage, pulsating in my ears.

Who was that man? And why did it feel as though his eyes were piercing through my soul from behind that mask?

The car rolls to a stop in the driveway, and for the first time in twenty minutes, I exhale sharply. My lungs burn from holding onto a breath I hadn't managed to release, and I gasp for fresh air to fill my lungs. I close my eyes and drop my hands from the steering wheel. Images of the masked man flash in my mind, sending a cold shiver racing across my skin and down my spine.

Forget about it, Pae, I tell myself. Dwelling on the details of the incident isn't going to change the fact that it happened. All I can do is be thankful that the man didn't get close to me and that I'm home safe.

Now that my breathing has calmed down slightly, I grab my handbag and get out of the car. The night air is crisp against the exposed skin of my cheeks. However, I'm grateful for the chill because they were on fire the moment I got in the car and sped away.

As I approach the front door, the flickering lights from within the window indicate Liam is home. It's odd because I'm usually home before him considering he spends a lot of late nights in the office as of late.

When I enter the house, I make sure to lock the door behind me as quickly as I can. The thought of that man somehow tracking me down and coming up from behind me only to snatch me away before I can alert Liam is not something I want to risk.

"Liam, I'm home," I call out, my voice echoing across the foyer.

"In here," he responds from the living room to my right. "I'm just watching TV."

I kick off my shoes beside Liam's haphazardly discarded leather loafers and walk over to the doorway to the living room. The house Liam bought before we got together has too many rooms for me to count, let alone clean in one day. When he invited me over after our first date, I was shocked to learn the house had three living areas, six bedrooms, and eight bathrooms. The kitchen was larger than the apartment I was living in at the time, and it even had a media room with recliners, a bar, and a popcorn and candy station. It was as if I had just walked into a movie theater and not a room in a normal house.

The home is beautiful, to say the least. It's far beyond anything I ever saw myself living in, especially in a city like New York. But it's far too big for two people. A house of this size would make sense for a large family, but Liam and I are nowhere near having kids right now. He does, however, enjoy showing off such an extravagant house to his friends and campaign sponsors whenever they're invited over for dinner. Liam loves being the center of attention, and I must admit, he does shine under the spotlight. He was born for it.

Liam is sitting on the leather couch with his arm lying across the back of it and his ankle resting on his knee. When he notices my presence by the doorway, his gray eyes pull away from whatever is playing on the television to meet mine. He smiles, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes. It wouldn't be the first time.

"You're home early," I comment as I walk across the room toward him. When I reach him, I bend down to plant a kiss on his chaste lips. The stale scent of women's perfume clings to the collar of his shirt. It's faint but noticeable. It's a scent I have grown used to smelling whenever my fiance returns home most evenings.

I've had my suspicions about what Liam might be up to while he's supposed to be at work. No matter how many times I ask him about the perfume, he reassures me that it's nothing. His explanation is the scent likely transfers to his clothing from the women he works with at the office. While it could have some truth to it, I'm skeptical.

I don't want to believe my fiance-who proposed to me six months ago-is cheating on me, but I'm also not blind to the evidence staring me directly in the face. A couple of weeks ago, a woman whose name I didn't know found me on social media. She messaged me with details of a night she spent with Liam. It was a weekend he had been "out of town" for work. While the message came as a shock, I already knew deep in my heart that Liam was hiding something from me.

But despite all the evidence stacked against him, I can't find it in myself to confront him about what I was told. Why? Well, part of me is afraid of his reaction. Liam has a bit of a temper, which I've seen many times since we've been dating. It's not something I want to be on the receiving end of, and I know that if I were to accuse him of cheating on me, he wouldn't be able to hold back his temper.

But that's not the only reason. Keeping my mouth shut is my only option, especially if I want to keep the continued financial support he offers for my mother's medical bills. My paychecks as a fairly new psychologist aren't terrible, but it's certainly not enough to support such extensive bills since my mother has no insurance. Liam comes from a wealthy family who has more money than they know what to do with. His father is an established politician, and his mother is the CEO of Aster Pharmaceutical. Not only do they provide their son with an abundance of money and a recognizable name to help him win elections, but they would do anything for him. And I mean anything.

If I want to continue living a comfortable life, it's in my best interest to keep my mouth shut and pick my battles. I need to think about my mother to ensure she gets the best possible care for her condition. Without Liam in my life, it would be rather hard to give her that comfort.

"I managed to get away early," he says, watching me as I take a step back. The skin between his brows creases as his eyes roam over my face. It's almost as if he's searching for something. Can he see the fear from earlier lingering on my features? "Is everything okay, Pae?"

Not wanting him to learn that I'm still shaken up over what happened earlier and the scent of the perfume on his collar makes me nauseous, I force a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired from work is all."

Liam nods slowly and runs a hand through his dirty blond hair. "You work hard, Pae. Pour yourself a glass of wine and relax a little, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I throw my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm going to cook pasta for dinner. Do you want a glass of wine while you wait?"

He grins and leans forward to wrap his hand around the back of my thigh. His fingers skim the curve of my ass before he grabs a handful of the skin and squeezes hard. "You know me so well, darling."

***

Cutlery clinking against porcelain plates echoes across the large kitchen. Liam is devouring the creamy chicken pasta on his plate, but I'm unable to stomach the food. The incident with the man earlier tonight plays through my mind, making my stomach twist painfully.

The more I think about him, the more I realize I could have been in serious danger had I not gotten to my car as quickly as I did. If he had gotten his hands on me... well, I wouldn't be sitting here with my fiance eating this delicious meal.

I keep coming back to the same question: Why? Why me?

"Pae, what's on your mind?" My eyes snap up at the same time Liam lowers his fork and wipes his mouth with the napkin from his lap. "You've barely touched your food, and you seem lost in thought."

I swallow hard. "I'm okay, I promise."

He gives me a pointed look. "I've known you for four years, Pae. I can tell when something is wrong. So, spill it. What's on your mind?"

"Okay." I lower my silverware and exhale slowly. "Well, when I was walking to my car after work I felt like someone was watching me. It was... unnerving, to say the least. I made a beeline for my car and once I was safely inside, I noticed a man standing next to a streetlamp nearby. I couldn't get a good look at him because he was wearing a mask. It scared the crap out of me though."

His eyes widen ever so slightly before they lower. "A man, you say? Did he approach you at all?"

I shake my head. "We didn't interact, but I could tell he was watching me. Waiting for me even. I was totally freaked out."

He reaches across the dining table to take my hand in his. His skin is cold, despite the warmth from the heater, but I ignore the frigidity and squeeze his hand. "You have nothing to be worried about, Pae. Whoever he is... I will protect you from him, okay? When you're with me, you're safe. Besides, maybe it was just some kid trying to scare you to impress his friends."

I want to tell him that the build of the man watching me was not that of a teenager, but I keep the thought to myself. While I appreciate Liam's sentiment in wanting to ensure he is able to protect me if someone were to ever try and hurt me, I know that deep down if push came to shove, Liam wouldn't be able to hold his own against a perpetrator.

Liam may not have a strong build or lots of muscles, and at times can be a little wimpy, but it doesn't make me love him any less. I know deep down he believes he could protect me, but I know that isn't the case.

I smile at him. "Thank you, darling."

At that moment, Liam's phone started vibrating on the table beside him. He snatches his hand away from mine to check the caller ID. His eyes find mine as he points to the device in his hand. "Sorry, Pae, but I have to take this."

"Take your time."

I watch him stand from the table and walk out of the room. His voice travels down the hallway as he takes the call, leaving me alone in the dining room.

Slumping back in the chair, I sigh heavily. My stomach growls, but my appetite is completely gone. I hate wasting food, but right now, the thought of eating what's on my plate is nauseating.

As I'm pushing around the food on the plate, I hear Liam's voice rise with anger. That captures my attention. I still my hands and listen intently, hoping to catch part of the conversation. I'm not one to eavesdrop on him, especially if it's a work-related call, but I'm also curious. He doesn't share too many details about his campaign for a seat in the Senate other than how he's doing in the polls, the candidates he's up against, and other minor details about working with his father.

After the media caught wind of some images circulating of Liam at college parties in some rather unflattering positions-mostly him passed out on the front lawn of a fraternity-his position in the polls dropped, despite having his father's last name. Not even his father could dig him out of that faux pas.

Liam's voice is slightly muffled, but somehow, I swear I hear him say, "All I need is a few days, and I'll be everyone's hero."

What he's referring to, I have no idea.

His footsteps echoing down the hallway have my back straightening and my eyes turning downward to focus on the plate of uneaten food in front of me.

He exhales heavily when he enters the room and slides back onto the chair across from me. When I look up, he runs a hand through his hair, frustration consuming his features.

I clear my throat. "Is everything okay?"

He doesn't meet my eyes as he nods. "I'm down in the polls and need to boost my campaign to drive in voters. But it's nothing for you to worry about, Pae."

***

Staring at the dark ceiling has grown boring. The longer I stare, unable to fall into the realm of sleep, the more restless I become. Liam fell asleep hours ago after we had sex, but I haven't been able to follow suit, instead lying awake, eyes wide and mind racing.

With a sigh, I fling the duvet back and slide out of bed. The hardwood floorboards are cold against my feet as I walk to the closed bedroom door. Liam is snoring softly as I open the door and pad quietly down the hallway. I'm not sure a glass of water will help me sleep, but I need to do something to distract the racing thoughts circling my mind.

The kitchen is pitch black save for the moonlight shining in through the window above the sink. I grab a glass from the cabinet above the stove before walking over to the sink. The silence in the room is almost eerie and does nothing to soothe the anxiety coursing through me at this moment.

"Get a grip, Pae," I mumble to myself as water fills the glass. "You're okay. You're safe."

When the glass is full, I turn the tap off and lift it to my lips, ready to chug the entire thing. But something catches my eye through the window, halting my movements. My heart begins to race as I scan the backyard. The same shiver I felt in the parking lot races down my spine again. The glass in my hand trembles, but I make no move to put it down.

He's here.

Moments later, I find him. He's standing under the large tree in the backyard with his hands shoved deep into the back of the black pants hanging from his hips. The moonlight shining across the yard allows me a better view of him. I'm unable to see his face as it's still covered by a mask and is hidden in the shadows, but I notice his torso and the hard muscles protruding from the black T-shirt clinging to his chest. His right arm is littered with tattoos, but I'm unable to make out the designs, and inky strands of dark hair frame his face, wavy in texture, adding to the intensity of his presence.

Blood rushes in my ears, and my heart pounds harshly against my rib cage. The glass of water slips from my hands, smashing to pieces at the bottom of the sink. The impact sends a shattering noise throughout the kitchen, likely traveling far enough to reach Liam in the bedroom. But I don't move. I can't move. His eyes are holding me hostage, pinning me to where I stand. I may not be able to see them, but I can feel them.

I grip the edge of the sink for support, my knees wobbling beneath me. The urge to run to Liam and have him protect me screams at me, but my feet are unable to move. My spine is rigid as I stare ahead, unable to tear my eyes away from him. I convince myself to commit as many details about him to memory as possible so that I can relay them to Liam if something were to happen.

For some odd reason, I find myself unable to look away from him because I'm curious. Why is he here? What does he want with me? It's clear he has an agenda in mind. Otherwise, he wouldn't have waited for me after work or tracked me down at my home.

If he wants to hurt me, then what is he waiting for? He could easily enter through the back door and execute whatever plan he has in mind, but instead, he's waiting for me intently. But why? What is he doing?

Rushing footsteps down the staircase tear my eyes away from the man.

"Pae? Are you okay?" Liam calls out, his voice thick with sleep.

"I'm fine," I murmur, my mind whirling.

When I turn back to look at the man, he's gone. And for some odd reason, my heart sinks a little.

Who is he, and what does he want with me?

Paetyn's POV

The voice of the client sitting across from me is slightly muffled by the rampant thoughts of the masked man racing through my mind. It has been two days since I saw him standing in my backyard, his eyes piercing me through the mask covering his features, and I haven't stopped thinking about him.

Liam told me not to worry about him, but how can I possibly not? It's one thing to watch me from across the parking lot, but it's another to stand in the darkness of my backyard and watch me like a hawk, making his presence known. He's keeping his features concealed for a reason, so I'm unable to identify him, but if he's going out of his way to let me know he's there, watching me, then why hasn't he made a move yet? What is he waiting for?

The thought of him doing something to hurt me sends a shiver across my body, goosebumps pebbling my skin from beneath the cardigan wrapped tightly around my torso. I haven't been able to sleep much the past two days for fear that I would see him in my dreams. He hasn't shown himself since the night in the parking lot, but that doesn't mean he isn't around, watching me from the shadows. When walking to my car now, I call my mom as a distraction from the anxiety squeezing my heart. She has been more than happy to talk with me, so that has eased the tension in my shoulders a little.

But it doesn't erase the fear that the masked man is going to appear out of nowhere at any time.

"Miss Jones, are you okay?"

My eyes snap up to the client across from me. Jayden is a young man in his early twenties battling depression and anxiety. He was one of my first clients after I became a registered psychologist and has been coming to see me once a week to talk through his feelings and thoughts. He has a lot on his plate with his home life, so the fact that I haven't been listening to him, lost in my own thoughts, makes my stomach twist painfully.

I adjust my position in the chair and clear my throat. Guilt claws its way up my throat as I force a smile onto my lips. "I'm okay, yes. Apologies, Jayden. Can you please repeat yourself?"

Jayden nods and repeats his words, detailing an incident that happened with his father recently. Jayden's father isn't a good man, to put it simply. He's verbally abusive and doesn't understand his son. My job is to make sure Jayden feels heard and remind him that he's important and his life matters. He matters.

Forget about the masked man, I tell myself. Your client needs you.

I get through the rest of the session with Jayden, putting the man in the mask at the back of my mind. Jayden is grateful for my advice as he leaves my office, which eases the guilt swirling in my stomach from the mishap earlier in the session.

With a sigh, I collect my belongings and lock my office for the night. Clarissa is sitting at the receptionist's desk typing away on her obnoxiously loud keyboard. When I step toward her, juggling my phone and car keys in my hand, her brown doe eyes lift from the computer to meet mine.

"Leaving for the night, Pae?" Her voice is soft and gentle, which matches her exterior. Clarissa is freshly nineteen, so her youthful appearance brings a certain calmness to the office. I had my doubts about her to begin with, considering her age and inexperience in the field, but she is great with the clients and is a pleasure to work with.

I stop in front of her desk, meeting her gaze. "I am. Are my clients for tomorrow still available to come in?"

"Your 10:00 A.M. session was canceled an hour ago when you went in with your last client, something about getting food poisoning last night. But the rest of your sessions are good."

Smacking my lips together, I nod. "Thank you, Lissa. You should head home, though. It's getting late."

She waves me off. "I won't be much longer, I promise. Getting ahead on the tasks for the next day is one of the ways I like to stay on top of everything. As soon as I'm done, I will have Jerry escort me out to my car. He's waiting for me out front."

Jerry is her new boyfriend she met a couple of months ago while at a party. They seem to be good together, so I have no doubt he'll keep her safe. I wish I could have my fiance walk me to my car, but he's a busy man, so that's out of the question.

I smile and nod. "Okay, well, be safe. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Good night, Pae."

On my way out of the building, I spot Jerry leaning against the wall beside the front door and wave at him. He returns the gesture and goes back to playing a golf game on his phone. The sidewalks are busy with people leaving work for the night, so I join the crowd and make the trek to my car.

I'm barely a few steps down the sidewalk when I get a call from my best friend, Raya. Perfect, I have someone to talk to on the phone while I walk, saving me from calling my mother again. The last thing I want to do is bother her when she's recovering from her latest chemo treatment.

"Hey, you," I say into the phone, a smile tipping up the corner of my lips. "Long time, no talk."

"Pae!" Raya calls excitedly into the phone. "How have you been? How is your mom?"

"I'm good, just busy with work as usual. And she's good too. Her most recent round of chemo went smoothly a few days ago, and she's responding well to the new medication she is on, so I'm hopeful she'll be able to beat the cancer."

"God, she's amazing," Raya praises, her voice filled with admiration for my mom. "And I'm glad to hear you're both doing well. I was actually calling to suggest we go out for drinks tomorrow night if you're free. It's a Friday night and I could use a gossip session with my best friend whom I haven't seen in forever."

Raya and I have been friends since middle school. I found her eating lunch in the girls' bathroom because she didn't have anyone to eat with. Much to my surprise, I was also going to eat in the girls' bathroom because my friends at the time decided to ditch me to go sit with the popular boys. So, we decided to sit in the bathroom and eat our lunch together. This turned into eating lunch together every day, sleeping at each other's house every weekend, and getting up to a lot of mischief throughout the rest of our days in school.

Honestly, we still do get up to a lot of mischief, but it's a lot more tamed now that we are both engaged.

"I can make Saturday night work," I respond. "With how busy work has been lately, I could use a drink to unwind a little."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Raya cheers. "No partners, okay?"

Someone bumps into my shoulder roughly, forcing a puff of air from my lips as I gather myself, standing upright. "That shouldn't be a problem. Liam is catching up with his father to meet with some campaign sponsors and whatnot, so I'm all yours."

"Seren is going out for drinks with his work friends, so I'm free as a bird also. He told me to tell you that the four of us need to get together soon for dinner."

The dreaded alleyway comes into view, and my heart begins to race. I swallow hard and focus on Raya's voice and not the blood rushing in my ears. "Yeah, that sounds good to me. Maybe we can host this time since you and Seren went out of your way to prepare such a wonderful dinner for us last time we got together."

"Well, it was more of an engagement dinner consideringsince you had already been engaged for a few months and had decided not to have a party since you were too consumed with planning the wedding. It was the least we could do," she points out. "But speaking of the wedding, how is the planning going?"

I turn the corner, leaving behind the safety net of strangers to keep me company, even if they don't know it. My heart hammers against my rib cage as I walk further into the darkness. I find it hard to focus on Raya's words because of the sense of dread that washes over me. The moment that same shiver I have felt twice now races down my spine, I stop walking, my legs unable to carry me further.

He's here again.

This time, he's standing about thirty feet away from me, his intimidating stance backlit by the streetlamps in the parking lot behind him.

"Oh, shit," I breathe, staring at the masked man. My throat is thick with lead, and I'm struggling to get any air into my lungs. "Oh, no."

"Pae?" Raya's voice rings through the phone. "Is everything okay?"

Now that I'm much closer to him, the details of the mask become clearer. The stitching over the eyes and mouth is terrifying, especially when paired with the piercing blue eyes gazing at me from behind the mask. They hold me captive, forcing me to stay where I am. Even if I wanted to run or scream, I couldn't. Not when his stare is so intense.

The masked man tilts his head to the side, his hands clenching and unfurling as he watches me.

"Paetyn?" Raya tries again, panic settling in her tone. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

I lower the phone to my side but don't end the call. My gaze stays on the masked maen, my heart about to leap out of my throat. He's wearing the same clothes as two nights ago-a black T-shirt and black jeans. How is this man not freezing? Winter in New York City is no joke.

I swallow hard, my fingers twitching around my phone at my side. If I want to get away from this man alive, I need to do something. Now. My best option is to turn and run back to the busy sidewalk. He wouldn't be stupid enough to try and hurt me in the middle of a busy walkway with plenty of eyewitnesses.

Running is my only option at this point. I just pray I'm a faster runner than he is.

Without giving it another thought, I turn on my heels and make a run for the end of the alleyway. I was never the best runner in school, but I'm hoping the adrenaline and fear coursing through my rigid body are enough to propel me forward and away from the danger lurking behind me.

Unfortunately for me, as soon as I start running, the masked man does too. The pounding of his footsteps against the concrete behind me spikes my heart rate to dangerous levels.

He's gaining on me-and quickly.

The blood rushing in my ears intensifies with each step, blocking out Raya's concerned voice calling loudly through the phone gripped tightly in my hand. I just need to make it to the end of the alley, and I'll be okay. If I make it out of this alleyway, he won't be able to-

I scream the moment a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around my waist. I'm feet away from the safety of the busy sidewalk, but that joy is ripped away from me as I'm pulled back into the depths of hell. Any hope I had of surviving this man has vanished into thin air.

My phone clatters to the ground. Raya hasn't stopped calling my name the entire time.

"Let go of me!" I cry, clawing at the skin on his forearms in the hopes it'll get me out of his hold. But it doesn't work. "Help! Someone help me!"

The man doesn't say a word as he hauls me down the alleyway, my back pressed firmly against his chest. He doesn't seem fazed by the struggle I'm putting up. But I don't stop. If I stop fighting, I'm dead.

A wave of sandalwood and nicotine assaults my senses before something wet covers my mouth and nose. My body goes limp in his arms as all the fight leaves me, followed by what I'm sure is the depths of hell-darkness as far as the eye can see.