Haunting Adeline

Chapter 36

The Manipulator

I look down at my hands like a scolded child. After Satan’s Affair, I had admitted Zade and I had sex, but I still didn’t confirm his identity to her, and she hadn’t asked. I think she was too concerned with my mental health to think about it. Rightfully so.

Regardless, if I had just been upfront and told Daya that I couldn’t share details about Zade and Mark, I think she would’ve learned to accept it. It was lying to her that hurt her most.

She followed me down to the kitchen, her anger a heavy gaze burning into the back of my head the entire way. And now, she glares at me from across the island.

“How long have you known? And why are there men stationed outside the house? And he trusts you to tell me what?”

I bite my lip. “For a little while,” I confess. “Look, I didn’t say anything because his involvement with Mark is top secret. I didn’t want you to keep asking questions that I wasn’t sure I could answer. It wasn’t my story to tell and what he’s doing is incredibly sensitive.”

“Did you know who he was when I asked you about him before Satan’s Affair?”

I cringe and nod my head, confirming what she already knew. Hurt flashes in her eyes, and all I want to do is cry—the guilt I’ve been carrying for lying to her bleeds from my pores.

She blows out a breath and nods, accepting my answer for what it is. “Okay, fine. Can you tell me now?”

I go on to explain Zade’s current mission, outside of bringing down pedophile rings. About the sick rituals being performed on little children and how hard Zade has been working to find the location and bring it down. Daya listens attentively, face souring as I explain the horrific things being done to i

As if that wasn’t fucking bad enough.

“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not,” Daya mutters, fidgeting with the hoop in her nose. “So Zade killed Mark because of these rituals?”

“Not exactly, though it definitely played a part in it. Remember how we saw him at Satan’s Affair?” When she nods, I continue. “Apparently, Mark targeted us that night and had made a call for someone to come… extract us.”

I explain Zade’s role that night, and how he had made sure that Daya and I never ended up in the back of a van. Even worse, how the Society has put a target on my head, and that Mark was trying to fulfill that.

As I continue telling her everything I know, Daya stares at me with a somber expression on her face.

When I finish, she stays quiet. Halfway through the story, I poured us both a shot of vodka. We both needed the liquid courage to hear about just how fucked up this world can be.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you as well,” Daya says after a few moments. Silence had settled in, and as it stretched on, I grew more and more anxious that she was going to walk out.

I hurt her.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, my voice small.

“It seems I do,” she sighs, a frown pulling her lips down.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “Ever since he came into my life, shit has been insane, and I’ve barely had time to come to terms with it all. Not to mention that I still don’t know how to process… him. And I think I wanted just to pretend that I was handling a stalker how I should be. Not by going off and… well—”

“Fucking him?” Daya finishes, her voice stern.

I cringe, biting my lip against the sting of her words. I deserved that.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

Daya’s shoulders drop. “I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that,” she says, as if reading my mind. “I’m not mad at you for your relationship with Z, Addie. I mean, I don’t understand it… I don’t understand how anyone could accept that their lover is a stalker. I also don’t think it’s the makings of a healthy relationship. The dude obviously has issues.”

I nod, agreeing with her assessment. What she’s saying are the same things that I have thought myself.

“But knowing that Z is your stalker oddly reassures me. I never knew him personally, obviously. I didn’t even know what he looked like, but what he does… it’s incredibly admirable. He puts his life on the line every day, walks into the lion’s den himself and saves a lot of i

She sighs, and a sardonic smile flashes on her face. “He stalks people for a living, so I suppose it’s no surprise that tendency has bled into his love life.”

I make a face, showing her how unimpressed I am with him not keeping his work habits where they belong.

“And I get why you didn’t tell me,” she admits softly. “Mark put you in a pretty shitty situation to begin with, and I understand more than most how delicately that situation needs to be handled. I would’ve understood if you had said so from the begi

My body relaxes with her acceptance, relieving me of some of the weight resting on my shoulders.

I can’t stand when Daya’s mad at me. I’d take Zade pointing a gun in my face over my best friend’s anger any day.

“Daya, I just want you to know it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. And I’m so sorry I lied. Getting involved with Zade really tests my morals, and I still don’t know what to think of everything. I mean, falling in lo—” I cut myself off, my teeth clicking from the force. I feel the blood drain from my face as I swallow the words back down.

“Do you—”

“No,” I cut in, the response too rushed and snappy to ring true.

Daya blinks, an array of emotions in her sage eyes, but she takes pity on me and doesn’t push.

“Well, whatever the case, I guess I can’t blame you for not being able to resist him.” She flashes a toothy smile. “He is really hot, and you really needed to get laid.” I find a random envelope sitting on the island and whip it at her in response.

She cackles, dodging the envelope.

“Dick,” I mutter, increasing her laughing. What I’m not going to tell her is that sex with Zade is far beyond getting laid. It’s not just incredibly intense, it’s metamorphosing. I walked out of that House of Mirrors a completely different person. And after last night, I don’t think I will ever be able to go back to the Adeline Reilly before Zade.

“Have you heard anything from Max?” I ask, the simple question erasing the light hearted tone.

Daya shrugs a shoulder. “No, actually. Ever since he visited us at that restaurant, I haven’t heard from him. Or the twins.”

I nod and say, “Zade implied several times that they've been handled, but I'm not sure what exactly that means. I haven’t even thought to ask, my mind has been so wrapped around everything else. Do you think they’re dead?”

She chews her lip and shrugs, appearing a tad uncomfortable. Her best friend has a serial killer for a… I don’t know what he is. Boyfriend? Lover? Gross, no. God can smite me before I refer to a man as my lover.

Whatever he is, he's crazy.

But I think she might even know that better than I do, with him being her boss. I’m sure she’s aware of the minute details on Zade's operations when he extracts girls.

“I don’t think they are, but I’ll look into it. Regardless, they’ve left us alone and I’m glad for it.”

I nod in agreement. Can’t say I have any complaints either.

Daya makes a move towards the coffee pot when she steps on the envelope I threw at her.

Pausing, she picks it up off the floor and sets it down on the island. That’s when I notice that it’s an odd envelope. It’s thick as hell, as if it’s packed to the brim with papers or something.

Brows dipping in confusion, I reach over and snatch up the thick paper. Noting the look on my face, Daya turns her attention back to me.

“What is it?”

My address is handwritten, but there’s no return address.

“I don’t know,” I mutter, eyeing the envelope like it’s a bomb. I can’t explain the exact feeling, but anxiety pools in the pit of my stomach.

Carefully, I peel open the flap, grab the thick stack of papers and slide them out. Except it’s not all just papers. Dozens of photographs fall out, along with a weathered note.

Daya and I glance at each other, our eyes co

I pick up the pictures first, immediately recognizing a younger version of Gigi in them. Most of them, her smiling red lips stare back at me, the same man predominant in all the photos.

“Who is that?” I mutter, not expecting any real answer at the moment. I don’t recognize the man. He’s not pictured in any of the photographs that were hanging on the wall when I moved in.

Once I renovated the house, I decided to take them all down. I had decided that they’d judged me enough after the Greyson debacle.

Zade fucked me in that hallway last night—that’s as far as we made it before he pi

I’ll never look at that spot on the rug or the wall the same.

So, I can only imagine how judgy their frozen eyes would be after not only seeing their descendent actually get railed this time, but by her stalker no less.

Thank god I took those down.

“Is there anything written on the back?” Daya asks, flipping over a few photos herself to look. I flip over mine and see a date written.

January 8 th , 1944.

Several months before Gigi had started writing about her stalker.

In the picture is Gigi, smiling brightly up at the camera, her hair pi

“No names on this one," I observe, flipping over a few more pictures. All with dates but none that reveal the identity of the man.

We spread the photos out and arrange them in chronological order. The last picture is two weeks before her death.

Gigi seems to be curled in on herself, hunched and small as she holds a glass of wine. Her smile is strained, while the mystery man stands next to her, looking down at her with a pinched brow and a frown. At this point, she was already in fear for her life.

But from the man in the pictures, or someone else?