Chapter 35

The moment the memories clicked into place, I marched straight to his office. I didn't care what time it was. I didn't care if he didn't want to talk. I just needed to know.

I didn't knock. The door was unlocked. I shoved it open and stepped inside like I had every right to be there. But the second I saw him, I stopped.

He was already looking at me.

Sitting behind his desk, calm and composed like he'd summoned me with a thought. His fingers steepled under his chin. His eyes tracked mine with the kind of focus that made my gut curdle. He wasn't surprised. If anything, he looked like he'd been waiting.

Once again, the man who’d broken down in my room yesterday was gone. Like he’d flicked the switch again.

Now, he looked angry. I could see it in the way his jaw flexed. Like he was holding something back. A look I'd gotten used to.

"Emily," he said calmly. "Come in. Close the door."

I stood awkwardly in the doorway, now less certain than I had been before. I didn't move, one foot still on the threshold. "I remembered something."

He tilted his head, barely. "Hmm?"

"It wasn't just the club," I said, voice softer than I wanted it to be. "It wasn't the first time I saw you."

He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, like he was suppressing a smirk.

"I saw you. You were following me. Before I even knew you." I stepped further into the room. "You were stalking me."

He rolled his eyes, leaning forward onto his elbows. "Your memory's unreliable. You know that."

"Don't," I snapped, fists clenching, hairs bristling on the back of my neck. "Don't gaslight me."

"You're confusing things," he said evenly. "It's not uncommon. Trauma distorts memory. You start seeing patterns that weren't there."

I took a step forward, glaring at him. "I know what I saw, Tyler.”

"You think so," he nodded. "But your brain is too desperate to make sense of what happened. It'll reach for any fragment, any face, and glue it into the preconceived story you've built." His gaze sharpened. "You're remembering out of order."

That made me pause. My eyes narrowed. "So that man I kept seeing wasn't you? How can I trust a word you say?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yes." My voice cracked. " It matters because you stalked me. Because you picked me."

He smiled faintly. "Of course I did."

I sighed. "So you admit it." Not a question, a statement.

"I admit that I was... observant." He stood up slowly, smoothing the creases in his clean white shirt. "But stalking? That's an ugly word."

I stepped back instinctively as he came around the desk. But the door was still open behind me, and when I reached for it, he moved faster.

He shoved it shut with one hand, the slam echoing through the office. Then he was in front of me, towering, and I barely had time to breathe before his hand hit the wall beside my head.

The other grabbed my chin, tilting my face up so I had no choice but to look at him.

"You want answers, Emily?" he whispered. "Fine. You were interesting. Do you know how rare that is? Most people go their whole lives without leaving a dent. But you... I saw something in you. Something I wanted."

"I observed you," he murmured, like the distinction meant something. "There's a difference."

My chest tightened. "Observed?" I echoed, bitterly. "You make it sound clinical. Like I was some specimen in a cage."

"I chose you, do you understand that? You didn't stumble into this. You didn't wander into the wrong building one night and fall into my lap. I picked you."

Onyx eyes bore into mine. The same pupil-less, hellish eyes I saw in those memories. I knew I wasn't going crazy or imagining it. It was him. It had to be.

"Why?" I whispered, even though I knew the answer.

His grip didn't loosen. "Because you were lonely, quiet, weak. Easy to take."

There it was. Plain. Unflinching. No pretence left.

"You're sick..."

"And you're naïve," he spat.

My throat closed up. And then — I don't know if I saw him reach or just felt it — but suddenly something cold touched the base of my neck.

My eyes widened. A knife. Small, sleek, silver. He didn't hold it like he meant to use it — he held it like a promise. Or a warning.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" he murmured. "Is that why you're here? Is this what you came for?"

"I just... wanted answers," I barely breathed, my head lifted instinctively to get away from the knife.

He pressed the tip to my skin a little harder. Not enough to break the surface, but enough to make my whole body lock. "You're not owed anything."

His other hand dragged slowly down my side — just over the fabric, tracing the edge of my ribs. It wasn't sexual. It was territorial. Evaluating. Cold. He didn't even look like he was enjoying it.

"You used to be interesting," he muttered. "Now you're just loud."

His face twisted slightly. It wasn't satisfaction. It wasn't lust. He looked frustrated. Distant. Like I was wasting his time.

"You're starting to annoy me."

I swallowed, the blade nudging closer. "Tyler, please—"

"I've tolerated a lot," he went on. "But your habit of forgetting your place is getting harder to ignore."

"I'm not," I whispered, gulping dryly. "I just—"

"And I'm starting to think you deserve a punishment. You're forgetting who I am," he said quietly, his hand now gripping my hip, hard enough to bruise.

I was shaking, trying not to show it. But he noticed. Of course he did.

I forced my voice up through my throat. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you marched in here thinking you could accuse me. Demand things. Interrogate me like you're owed something. You're not."

His hot breath fanned my skin as he lowered the blade and growled. "You're not owed anything."

Then, suddenly, he pushed back off the door and walked away. Pocketed the knife like it had never been there.

"Oh, and by the way, I thought you should know," he said, voice casual now, almost dismissive.

"Dylan's out of isolation."

I froze. "What?"

"Just this morning. I released him."

"No." My voice cracked, vision blurring. "No, he can't— he'll kill me. He'll kill Tom. You know he will—"

"I know."

My knees nearly buckled. "You're doing this to punish me."