Yes, Masters (Book 2 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 2 - Emma

Kevin's apartment was empty when I got back. He was still at work and had no idea what I'd been going through for the last hour. I hadn't even thought to tell him, prioritizing instead to get my ass to the station. A lot of good that did me.

Settling down on the couch, I couldn't stop thinking about the last few hours. I'd been this freaking close to telling my men about it, but nothing could've been that simple.

Huh. My men. It seemed I still considered them mine. After the worst of the hurt had settled, my mind had already made its decision. It was that easy, wasn't it? The subconsciousness always knew; it just took time to listen to it.

My stomach growled as I waited, but I didn't make a move to the kitchen. I was too tied up in knots to eat anything. My appetite was practically nonexistent.

The envelope was clenched in my hand, and I threw it at the table, feeling sick holding it. If this was a prank, it wasn't just cruel; it was despicable. Who would want to terrorize anyone in this way? Who was sick enough to do something like this? And why me? Why me? I'd never done anything to deserve this. I was quiet, kept to myself, and stayed out of anyone's way. And what the hell did they mean about saving me? As if I was in any other danger than the one they'd put me in themselves. Absolutely unhinged.

Fear raged inside my body as I thought about the last text. Nausea gripped my throat, and my stomach rolled with the intensity of my feelings. But while my body felt the effect of the ominous words, my mind was strangely empty—calm, almost. It was like I was in a dream or someone else had taken over my body because this was too surreal to be true. Stuff like this didn't happen to people like me—at least, it wasn't something I'd expect would happen to me.

Everything about this was crazy. I mean, who the hell showed up out of the blue to follow me, take pictures, and write me creepy notes?

Most importantly, who sent threatening texts if this was just a prank?

My mind couldn't handle this. So, it shut itself off.

Shock.

I knew it was shock I was experiencing.

This couldn't be real. I didn't want this to be real. I wanted this to be a nightmare, that I would wake up in Kevin's bed and this would all be gone.

Going into panic mode helps no one, least of all myself, I reminded myself. I couldn't allow myself to overanalyze and speculate because then...then I'd get sick with worry. The thing about the brain was that it could lead you down rabbit holes—holes that you would struggle to get out of.

I felt stupid, so fucking stupid for letting myself play into the unknown's game, but what could I do? I didn't know what this person was capable of. Obviously, he or she was insane, and insane people were the scariest because you never knew what to expect from them.

Whenever I read books where the heroine had a stalker—was that was this person was? —I was always irritated at how dumb the heroines were for not seeking help. They'd been either overconfident thinking they could fix it on their own or sacrificed themselves to keep those they cared about safe. I always cursed those women out because clearly this wasn't something they could manage alone—it was too big for them to battle by themselves.

Now...Now I thought I understood. While I had known it was a book, the heroines hadn't. And while I knew the book guaranteed a happy ending, they hadn't. They couldn't risk anything because, to them, it was real life, and real life wasn't straightforward—there was no arrow pointing them in the right direction and no knowing how it would've turned out if they got help. They couldn't take the chance of doing something that might hurt someone else. And I...I couldn't either.