Grabbing my phone, I scroll through my contacts and hit send.
The picture on my security footage still looks like grainy snow. My fist slams down on the desk as I wait for Jaxson to pick up.
“What the fuck is wrong with the cameras?”
“I don’t know, Gideon. Ask your paid IT guy on staff. Rick, is it? I’m fucking busy.”
“Fix it now.”
“For fuck’s sake. You don’t pay me enough,” Jax mumbles, but I hear him typing away, and before long, the screen lights up, and I see her again. “There. Happy? Now leave me the fuck alone.”
The line disconnects.
Fuck.
My heartbeat starts to regulate.
This obsession will be the death of me.
Fucking Jax.
He’s not wrong. I don’t pay him enough to put up with my crazy. Especially now that it’s multiplied since Sasha’s arrival.
I need to send him a gift for putting up with me.
I also need to start checking in with Rick from now on.
That’s what I employ him for.
Looking back at the clear picture in front of me, I watch as she makes her way outside, and I have to flip the camera view to those I have surveying the trees lining the drive. She’s getting pretty far up the path, and if she gets any farther, I’ll lose sight of her.
Not that I need to see her to know what she’ll find. The small hole in the fence she’s about to stumble upon isn’t an actual hole.
It’s an illusion I set up. I’m sick like that.
She’ll get excited, but once she gets through the hole, shewillbe cornered. She’ll be stuck because right beyond the fence is a solid wall that she couldn’t scale even if she wanted to. There’s no escape.
It’s time to put a stop to this charade.
Standing from the chair, I head toward her, thinking about all the excuses she’ll give. By now, she’s taking the narrow passageway that will lead her to her capture.
This whole attempt is ridiculous.
Here, she can have anything she wants. She’ll be safe.
She has no idea what’s out there if she thinks I’m a monster.
Beyond the wall, anything can happen.
She isn’t worried because I don’t have tangible details to give her of the danger she’s in.
That’s the part that probably bothers her the most. I’m working on it, but I don’t know where the threat is coming from.
She thinks I’m lying.
I’m not.
My own sick desire to have her close is what drives me. If she runs, I have no choice but to keep her close. For her own safety.