Romeo + Juliet | s.r

Chapter 10

TW: PTSD, hallucinations

Spencer's POV:

I entered the magnificent hall. Gold chandeliers hung high from the ceiling, gold tablecloths and fancy chairs surrounded the stage. On the stage were exotic dancers, wearing gold lace gloves and minimal but expensive clothing. The waiters dressed in fancy black and white aprons, holding glass trays with fancy wine glasses.

Businessmen sat at the tables, eyeing the exotic dancers even when their wives were seated right beside them. Not caring if they were subtle or not. In their hands was pricey wine.

Alcoholics, but with class.

I showed the receptionist my invite before putting in back in the front pocket of my black suit. It was probably the most expensive suit I owned. But of course, I still looked underdressed.

I knew how these men were. Money before anything. Most of them probably had some participation in money laundering or illegal deals on the black market.

But that's not what I was here for today. Emily had been tipped off that the unsub would be attending tonight and luckily, Emily and I were prepared to catch him. If we could get a confession saying he pushed Peyton, we could put him behind bars.

Taking a seat at an empty table near the back, I looked around for a sign of Emily. We had planned to arrive separately so as to not arouse suspicion.

A few minutes later, she walked through the extravagant glass doors. Adjusting her dress slightly. She'd shown up wearing a long black lace dress, with a slit starting midthigh. Her dress trailed behind her as she walked. On her hands, were matching black, lace gloves.

Discreetly, she sat down two seats away so she was across from me. I glanced up at the waiter who was making his way to our table with champagne in his hand. Shaking my head, I politely declined. I needed to be clear headed for this mission. I'd been chasing him for a month now, almost two. Stupidly letting him escape once too.

"Merci. C'est terriblement nécessaire." Giving the waiter a flirty smile and grabbing two glasses at once, both for her, Emily shooed him off.

"So, have you seen him yet?" She asked, taking a sip from the liquor in her hand. "Ugh. This might have cost thousands but it surely tastes flavourless." Emily's face scrunched up in disgust before setting the bland drink on the table and leaning in closer to me.

"Nope, no sign of him yet." I straightened my suit, suddenly feeling anxious. What if he doesn't show up? Will I ever catch him?

As if reading my wild train of thoughts, Emily assured me, "Oh he'll be here. Trust me. Based on what we profiled, he doesn't seem like the type to miss an event like this."

I so badly hoped she was right.

ONE MONTH EARLIER (THE DAY AFTER THE FUNERAL)
Shivering, and drenched in sweat, I awoke. Instinctively, I checked the clock. 3:27. I'd only been sleeping for an hour.

Running my hands through my hair, I walked over to the kitchen. I quickly dropped my hands to my side, as the gesture only reminded me of how Peyton would tug on my curls.

It was dead silent outside. The rest of the world was sleeping peacefully. Strangely, I liked it like this. No cars were outside, and the streets were empty.

Gulping down a glass of water, I impulsively decided to go for a walk. Grabbing my coat and locking the door behind me, I waited for the elevator.

The funeral was hard as it was, but my outburst only made it worse. I didn't know how to feel. I wanted to cry, to scream, to kill the person that pushed her. Who ruined me, took the only thing I truly cared for away from me.