Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Confusion plagues me. I have no recollection of this. When does the stalker come? I keep watching, waiting for him to show up. “Wha—HOLY SHIT,” I gasp, watching in horror as this strange man shoves his hand up my skirt, and I start riding it like it’s Christmas morning. “What the fuck am I doing?”
“My question exactly.”
“That’s not . . . That’s not him. My stalker wears a mask, and he’s much taller—like you. I’d almost convinced myself that he was you at one point.”
He nods. “Just watch. It gets worse.”
“Worse? How the fuck does it get worse?”
Knight skips through the awkward hand grinding, only stopping when I take Regular Joe over to a private booth and start blowing his mind before riding his cock reverse cowgirl style.
“No, no, no,” I groan, hating every minute of this before realizing that this guy could have any number of diseases, and I sure as fuck didn’t see him suit up. “I need to get checked for STDs.”
“That you do,” Knight agrees.
“Turn it off,” I beg him.
He doesn’t hesitate, letting his phone fall in my lap. “Do you see now, doll? All these things are happening. There are bits and pieces that are true, but your mind is distorting reality and replacing it with whatever it wants you to see. This stalker, Harper. He’s not real, and the more your mind tells you that he is, the more you’re at risk of ending up in a dangerous situation, and I don’t want that for you. I need you safe.”
I shake my head, hating this. His proof is overwhelming, but I have proof of my own, and it’s fucking with my head more than ever. I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know what to trust.
“Laith?” I ask with shaky hands, remembering him standing at my door so clearly, but I was certain it wasn’t him, and if the two men from the club are still alive, and the Korean burn victim isn’t who I thought he was, then perhaps there’s a chance that Laith really is alive.
Knight nods. “Laith is fine. He’s alive, albeit a bit confused, but fine.”
I let out a relieved breath. I’d rather admit to being crazy than to have to lose Laith all over again. “So who was I—Wait. He was confused? How do you know he’s confused? Did you speak to him?”
Knight cringes. “I might have run a background check on Laith and gotten his cell number from there. But yeah, after you were sedated, I gave him a call. I figured something must have triggered your panic over needing to find his body, and he confirmed that he’d swung by to check on you this morning.”
My face scrunches. “So, he knows then?”
Knight shakes his head. “No, I figured it wasn’t my place to talk to him about what’s going on with you. He had a lot of questions though, so at some point, you’re going to have to sit down with him and have a real conversation.”
I nod, appreciating that more than he will ever know, but I’m also taking note of the fact he’s not insecure about me spending time with Laith, despite our significant history. “Okay, so if it wasn’t Laith on the table, then who the hell was it?”
“A gunshot victim,” he says. “I have the footage of that as well, but it’s hard to watch. It’s clear that you believed it was Laith. I don’t know if you really want to relive that one.”
“Yeah. I’ll pass.”
We sit in silence, and as the tears slowly roll down my cheeks, Knight holds my hand. “It all felt so real,” I tell him, unable to wrap my head around it while terrified of what this might mean for me. I trust Knight, and I know he wouldn’t lie to me, especially not about something like this, but I’m struggling to believe it. How can my brain just stop working like that?
“I know, doll,” he says, his hand cupping the side of my face before falling to my waist, his fingers brushing across my ribs and making me stiffen. “I’m sorry you had to learn about it like this, but—”
“Wait,” I say, my brows pulling down as I start to shake my head, more than ready to pull every single part of his story to pieces. “If none of this is real, then how do you explain the scars on my ribs? I didn’t imagine that. Those scars are there for the world to see and will continue to be there for years to come. Somebody did that to me.”
Knight nods as a distraught hollowness appears behind his eyes. “Baby, I . . . I have a theory about that, but you’re not going to like it.”
I watch him for a moment before understanding dawns, and I realize exactly what he’s going to say. “You think I did this to myself.”