Page 38 of Hellebore

“Let’s get our stuff and go home,” she says when she returns.

We file back inside. The emergency lights cast everything in an eerie red glow. I head straight to my station to grab my phone and bag.

That’s when I see it.

A small stack of bills sitting neatly on my work table.

My stomach drops.

I pick up the money with trembling fingers. Then the realization hits me and I run to the fridge and yank it open.

The cake is gone.

In its place, a small white note.

“Thanks, my love.”

Oh shit.

He did this. He caused the power outage just to take the damn cake without anyone seeing him.

Who the hell is this person?

I walk outside, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles ache. No new texts from the private number. Just silence.

Lucille pulls up and I practically dive into her car.

“Shit, you need to call the cops!” she says the second I close the door. I’d already texted her everything while I waited.

I just shake my head and stay quiet, staring out the window as my mind spirals. The texts. The flowers. The note on the windowsill. And now this.

“He could be some old pervert that smells like stale beer and piss!” Lucille grunts.

“Ewww, Lu!” I snap, the image making my stomach turn.

“Seriously. You have no idea what this person looks like,” she insists.

“I know…” I let out, voice low.

We reach my apartment and Lucille insists on coming up with me. She disables and resets the new alarm in seconds.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I tell her, heading to the bathroom feeling numb.

The moment I step into my bedroom I freeze.

Something is on my bed.

I quickly close the door behind me so Lucille won’t see. A single perfect slice of the black cake sits on an ornate silver dish, heavy, antique-looking, engraved with delicate flowers. Black rose petals are scattered around it—it’s beautiful.

He came inside again. Even with the alarm.

My phone vibrates. I jump so hard I almost drop it.

“The cake is perfect. Just like you, my love.”

I stare at the screen, heart hammering, cheeks burning with a mix of terror and something I don’t want to name. Another text appears immediately.

“This piece is special. When you eat it, you will sleep.”