He was smart, too. Super smart. A software developer with all the coding and hacking knowledge in the world. He could’ve hacked into my security system even if I’d never given him the PIN.

  Also, it would explain his weird behavior as of late. Like when I caught him off guard at his house and found him going through my phone. Or even last night. He could’ve disabled my alarm system so he could get inside my room while I was out, and then simply faked being drunk in a calculated act to cover his tracks when the police spotted him trying to sneak through my window.

  There was something else, too. A conversation from last week had just floated back to me, replaying in my mind with disturbing clarity.

  We’d been bemoaning our lackluster love lives, and he’d said something like, ‘It just shouldn’t be this hard to find someone loyal. Someone who doesn’t lie or leave when it gets inconvenient. Life would be so much easier if the perfect person just showed up one day and said: ‘I’m yours and I always will be’, right?’

  Those could be the words of an overly possessive guy with deep-seated stalker tendencies. A guy who was obsessed with the idea of a woman being his and his alone. Forever.

  Or… they could just be the words of a totally normal person who was disillusioned with relationships. At least half the people on Tinder probably shared Dec’s sentiments, and that didn’t mean they were depraved serial killers. They were just lonely and sick of waiting for Mr. or Mrs. Right.

  I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, clutching my phone. I had to stop these intrusive thoughts. They weren’t fair, and they weren’t true. Dec wasn’t a killer. He just couldn’t be.

  When he talked about Kaylee, there wasn’t rage in his voice. Just sadness and a hint of bitterness, which he was entitled to feel given the circumstances of their breakup.

  Also, I’d seen him laugh until he cried at silly internet videos, and I’d watched him lavish care on a sick stray dog he found behind our house one freezing Christmas Eve. Serial killers didn’t do that sort of stuff… did they?

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to silence the voice in the back of my head that was now whispering, ‘Actually, that’s exactly how the Carver would act. Unassuming. Kind. Funny. Sweet enough to get close right before he slices you open like a piece of meat.’

  “No,” I muttered to myself again, shaking my head. It had to be a coincidence. All of it.

  But… coincidences didn’t usually stack up this neatly. This perfectly.

  My throat tightened, and I stared down at my phone, thumb hovering over Dec’s name in my contacts. My heart was hammering so hard I thought I might black out.

  “Fuck it,” I finally whispered. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I hit call on video chat mode.

  I was going to confront him right now. No dancing around it.

  He wouldn’t be expecting that kind of bluntness from me, so if he was actually guilty, the shock might catch him off guard. Might make his mask slip.

  Just for a second.

  Just long enough to see the darkness underneath.

  He answered the video chat on the third ring. “Hey, Kenny,” he said, voice rough with sleep. His hair was ruffled, and dark circles ringed his heavy-lidded eyes.

  I didn’t hesitate. “Hi, Dec,” I said stonily. “Tell me something. Did you come back here in the middle of the night and break into my house? Into my bedroom?”

  I was met with silence and a blank expression. Not even a breath or a tiny facial twitch. And then…

  “Yeah,” Dec replied, rubbing his jaw. “I did.”

  13

  Kennedy

  My breath hitched. “So you admit it,” I said in a low voice. “Just like that.”

  Confusion flickered in Dec’s eyes. “Of course I admit it. I got arrested for it,” he said. “You were there. Did you forget?”

  I let out a frustrated sigh, shoulders sagging. “I was asking if you came back. And I said the middle of the night.”

  He rubbed his jaw, still looking confused. “Well, it was pretty late when I got caught, wasn’t it?”

  “It was half past eight. So… no, not really.”

  “Jesus, it was that early? I had no idea.” He slowly shook his head. “Brett and I started drinking around three or four. Felt like we were at it forever, so I honestly thought it was close to midnight when I broke into your place. But to be fair, my memories from last night are hazy at best.”

  “You didn’t actually break in, you know,” I said stiffly. “The police caught you before you could even touch the window.”

  His eyes widened. “Seriously? I thought I opened it and got halfway inside your bedroom. At least that’s how the cops made it sound.”

  “Nope. You didn’t even get far enough to trigger the alarm.”

  “Wow,” he said, cringing. “I guess I’m the world’s shittiest burglar, then.”

  “Yup,” I muttered again.

  He let out a groan and leaned back against his bedhead. “God, I’m so sorry for doing that to you, Kenny. It must’ve scared the crap out of you.”

  “It definitely freaked me out,” I admitted. “I’ve never seen you act like that.”

  Another groan escaped him as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m so fucking embarrassed. You’d expect a teenager to get wasted and act like a total dumbass, but not a man in his thirties, right?”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t exactly an ideal situation,” I said in a frosty tone, lifting a brow. “I bet your dad tore you a new one last night, huh?”

  “No idea. I don’t even remember calling him when I got to the station. I just remember the lawyer showing up and getting me out of there,” he replied. “But yeah… I’m willing to bet Dad’s pissed as hell. Your mom, too.”

  “Well, you’ve been going through a lot lately,” I said, face softening. “So I’m sure they’ll get over it eventually.”

  Dec really didn’t seem to have the slightest clue which break-in I was talking about. That alone made it seem likely that he wasn’t the person behind the second one. On top of that, he genuinely looked and sounded hungover as hell. Like he’d actually drowned himself in alcohol last night as he claimed.

  That wasn’t the behavior of a calculated stalker or killer. Also, the man who’d sneaked into my house last night was definitely stone-cold sober. All he needed to chase a high was a knife and a warm body.

  “My piss-poor personal life is no excuse for that behavior,” Dec muttered, shaking his head. “I really need to get my shit together.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  He suddenly sat up straighter, brows pulling together. “Hold on… you asked if I came back last night, right? Are you saying someone else broke in after I got hauled off by the cops? Or did I just mishear you?”

  I hesitated. If I was right and he wasn’t the Carver, then I couldn’t tell him what really happened last night. If I did, I might piss off the real Carver, seeing as he’d obviously scrubbed all the evidence of our encounter for a reason… and pissing him off probably wouldn’t end well for me.

  “Um… no,” I said, rubbing my forehead and looking away from the phone camera. “I, uhh… I just had a bad dream about it happening. It really freaked me out.”

  “Shit. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I am now. It just seemed so real at first.”

  “Fuck.” Dec blew out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Kenny. I feel totally responsible. I mean, you’ve already had so much other stuff going on, and then I went and pulled that dumb shit last night. I’m not surprised you’re having nightmares about break-ins now.”

  “It’s okay. It was just a dream,” I murmured.

  “No, it’s not okay. I’m a total asshole,” he said, contrition flashing in his blue eyes. “I’d offer to come by and make you those choc-chip pancakes you love as an apology gesture, but I have a feeling I’m persona non grata on your street right about now.”

  I snorted softly. “Yeah, I doubt you’d make it within ten yards of my house before the cops have you cuffed on the ground again.”

  “Can’t blame them, I suppose,” he said, raising a brow. “I didn’t exactly make myself look like a stand-up guy last night, did I?”

  “I guess not.”

  “That reminds me. You know the lawyer dad sent to bail me out? When he was driving me home, he said something about the cops wanting to speak with me either today or tomorrow,” Dec said. He paused, his mouth pulling to one side. “I can’t remember the exact details of what he said, because I was still pretty messed up, but I know he told me it was related to the Carver investigation. They want to question me about it for some reason.”

  I swallowed hard, schooling my face into a neutral expression. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah. But I guess I can’t be too surprised by that, can I?” he said. “I mean, the real Carver sent you all that crazy shit last week, and then I show up a few days later trying to break into your bedroom. Might as well wear a neon sign on my forehead saying, ‘I’m guilty’, right?”

  I sat up a little straighter. “Actually, speaking of break-ins… if someone had the PIN for my security system app and the ability to connect to my Wi-Fi, they could probably get into the app and disable it, right?”

  “Yeah, definitely. People can do all sorts of crazy shit through your Wi-Fi if they’re able to get on it. That’s why I always ride people so hard about network security,” Dec said. He tilted his head. “How come?”

  “I was just wondering… are there any other ways to hack into my security system? Like, if they don’t have my app PIN, or the password for my account on the website?”

  “For sure. Hackers can always find a way,” he replied, rubbing his jaw. “I’d say the most common method is phishing emails. We talked about those last week, right?”

  “I can’t remember, but I think I know what it means. It’s when the hacker sends you an email with a shady link, and they get what they want once you click on it.”

  “Exactly. What a lot of them do is this: they craft an email that looks exactly like one from the company they’re pretending to emulate. Like Netflix, for example,” he explained. “The unsuspecting receiver assumes it’s really from the company and clicks whatever link the hacker asks for. It then goes to a page that prompts them to log in… and bam. Hacker has their username and password.”

  My eyes widened as I recalled the email I’d received on the bus last week. Had that really been from the security company, or had I fallen prey to a hacker?

  If it was fake, it would explain why my new password hadn’t worked earlier… because it would mean I’d never actually changed it.

  “How about an email telling you that you need to update your password?” I asked. “Could that be one of their methods?”

  Dec nodded sagely. “Absolutely. Because most sites require you to put your old password in before you change it to the new one, just to confirm it’s really you.”

  “Oh.”

  My heart was pounding now. If I was right, and that email was fake, it would explain how the Carver was able to get into my security system without having PIN access to the phone app.

  Dec frowned. “If you’re worried about your security system, you should change your password right now, just to be sure. Better safe than sorry,” he said. “Although I really don’t think you need to worry too much. Those cops outside your place are pretty on-the-ball.” He paused, letting out a dry laugh. “Trust me, I’ve got the bruises to prove it, from when they tackled me into your garden.”

  I gave a nervous laugh in response. If only he knew. “I better go update the password now just in case. Thanks for the advice.”

  “No problem. And I really am sorry for last night’s bullshit. I’ll make it up to you with those pancakes once the cops finally let me back onto your property, okay?”

  “Sounds good.”

  As soon as I ended the call, I hurriedly grabbed my laptop again. I clicked into my email folder and scrolled until I found the email from last week that was purportedly from the security system company. Then, in another browser, I searched in my email folder for older password update emails that I knew for sure were real. Once I had several open, I compared them all with the newer one, and after scrutinizing every last detail, I realized there were some differences between them.

  The legitimate emails always came from a consistent domain—support@sentinelsecurity.com—and the formatting was clean, corporate, and professional.

  The fake one, on the other hand, had come from support@sentinel-security.net. It looked similar at a glance, but the domain was just off enough to be suspicious. Also, the logo in the header was slightly pixelated, like it had been copied and pasted from the original rather than inserted by a professional graphic designer.

  “Shit,” I muttered, stomach twisting as the cold, hard truth settled in. I hadn’t just fallen for a phishing scam last week. I’d practically giftwrapped the keys to my house and handed them to the Carver.

  I flipped back to the browser tab that was still logged into the security system’s website and navigated to the My Account section. Sure enough, another user had been attached to my account without my knowledge. Their name was simply ‘K’, and their email address was: K@whoami.com.

  Every security alert and system update had been rerouted to that address. No wonder I hadn’t received a single warning about the change. He’d buried the evidence the moment he slipped in.

  “Goodbye, asshole,” I muttered, clicking the ‘Delete User’ button next to his name.

  A dialog box flashed onto the screen. You do not have permission to perform this action.

  “What?” I hissed, leaning in closer.

  I clicked the info icon beside the warning. Another box opened, and with it came a sick wave of dread.

  K wasn’t just an added user. He was listed as the primary account holder.

  Somewhere along the line, he’d demoted my original profile to secondary user status. No admin rights. No authority to remove him. And because he’d used my own login credentials in the first place, the system assumed that he was me and never questioned the account updates.

  “You fucking prick,” I said through gritted teeth as heated fury spread through my chest.

  Whoever this guy was, he hadn’t just hacked my security system. He’d taken control of it.

  Even worse, after a couple of clicks, I realized there was another listed user in the ‘archived profiles’ section that had been added over three years ago, also by the name of K.

  That meant the Carver had actually hacked me when I first installed the system, through another account. He just hadn’t wanted me to know about any of it until now, so he’d slipped in that first time without leaving a trace.

  But all this time… he’d been watching me. Biding his time. Gloating over the fact that he secretly wielded control over my home and could strike whenever he wanted. And the only reason I even knew about it now was because he’d finally decided that he wanted me to know.

  I leaned back and sighed heavily, rubbing my forehead.

  As angry and scared as I was right now, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Couldn’t tell the police. Because if I even tried… well, the Carver had the sex tape of us together now, and if he released that, I’d go from victim to willing accomplice. Then no one would believe a word I said ever again.

  There was one positive to all of this, though; one that had just occurred to me as my eyes flitted over the email address in the newer K profile.

  The Carver had given me a way to contact him.

  14

  ‘K’

  Kennedy had finally figured it out.

  Not everything, of course. Not the full scope. But enough to feel another major crack in her already tenuous sense of safety.

  Right now, she was sitting cross-legged in the center of her bed, still bare from last night. Her laptop rested on the rumpled blanket, the screen displaying her account on the security company’s website. Except it wasn’t really her account. Not since I slipped inside.

  I leaned closer to my monitor, watching her in real time through the very cameras that were there to protect her.

  The irony was delicious. Her parents had gifted the security system to her after she spiraled into anxiety a few years ago; a well-meaning gesture to help her feel in control again. Help her feel safer. But all it made her was vulnerable. Because the second I found my way into the system, she stopped being alone. She just didn’t know it.

  Not until this very moment.

  Now she knew she’d never been alone. Never been safe. Not as long as she’d been on my radar.

  Her reaction to my presence in the system hadn’t disappointed me. First came the confusion. The tilt of her head. The narrowed eyes. The slow lean-in and the drawn-out blinks, as if to check she wasn’t simply hallucinating.

  Then came the fury-laced horror. Raw. Beautiful. Perfect.

  She changed tabs and swiped through the different camera feeds with trembling fingers. Her brows were furrowed, lips parted slightly in disbelief. Obviously, she was still trying to make sense of it. Still clinging to the hope that there was something she could do to regain control of the system.

  God, the desperation on her face was fucking adorable.

  She muttered something under her breath and got up, pacing the hallway toward the tiny spare room she used for storage. I clicked through to the corresponding camera. Watched her rip open the door, shove aside boxes, and yank open drawers like she expected to find a monster hiding inside.

  “Sweetheart, you already found one,” I muttered, lips curving in a smirk. “And you let him fuck you.”

  She finally found a book in one of the drawers and pulled it out. I squinted to see the title as she cracked it open. Foundations of Human Behavior. A college textbook from Psych 101, an elective she’d taken with her friend Freya during their first year at Corwin Bay University.

  I chuckled at her choice of reading material, shaking my head. Was she trying to understand me? Or herself?

 

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