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Where has my resolve gone? Have the few confessions I made to you ruined me so much so that I have no more strength? No more willpower to hold my ground and play this game the way it was meant to be played?

I made a life changing decision tonight by helping someone who, a day ago, I felt wasn’t worthy of my time. You should be proud for having brought on that change of mentality in me. If not for your unremitting determination, it never would have happened.

I should be proud of myself for having made that leap, but I’m not. I should be afraid that my extracurricular activities will be found out, but I’m not. I’m too exhausted to feel anything except irritated as fuck at my weaknesses and inability to stay on track.

I suppose that’s Mr. Black trying to work his way out. I’ve suppressed him as best I can, but he lies in wait, preparing for that moment when he can lash out at you and make you hate him more than you already do. You bring out both the best and worst in me, Peach. I want the best part of me to win out, but I no longer hold out hope for the impossible and simply wait for the inevitable.

***

Seated in the movie theater, Elsa tried to clear her mind of any and everything related to men, including but not limited to Victor and Nate. All of them; all the memories of the men who had been in her life were told to take a backseat and shut the hell up while she enjoyed some alone time.

She had purposely picked a movie that had nothing to do with romance; a dick flick; something with loads of action and little-to-no plot.

It wasn’t helping. Every minute that passed in that darkened room, alone, only solidified her irritation with herself.

It didn’t matter who that woman was. It made no difference that she was beautiful and had the most hauntingly blue eyes she had ever seen. It wasn’t any of her business that Victor was probably fucking, or had already fucked her, on her off days.

Nate was already starting to move on and now Victor was, too. Apparently, her rules were too much for him. She smiled. Good. She was glad she had proven to be too much woman for Victor and too much chapter for Mr. Black.

Unable to sit still any longer, she exited the building when an acute sense of alarm gripped her. She whirled around and tried to focus her eyes against the blinding snow whipping all around. She knew the feeling of being watched well, but this felt different. She picked up her pace to stand underneath a streetlamp as her eyes searched the street for her car. Where the hell had she parked? In her haste to get as far away from Victor as fast as she could, she had forgotten.

A quick look across the street revealed only a handful of people milling around outside the theatre – a couple holding hands and clinging to each other for warmth, a few teenagers in puffy overcoats, and a tall, sinewy man wearing all black. Something about his behavior and attire struck her as odd. It was the way his eyes kept darting toward her and then nervously away and the fact that he wasn’t wearing nearly enough for the frigid weather.

She moved to the next streetlamp. When he casually crossed the street to the same side, a fine edge of terror sharpened her perceptions. His prowling movements and lanky frame set her nerves on edge and she frantically searched the street again. She plunged her icy fingers into the pocket of her coat. When she found her key fob, she hit the panic alarm and mentally berated herself for not having thought of it sooner. When she saw the lights of her car and heard the horn blaring, she made a mad dash toward it.

Another forceful, glacial gust of air slammed against her, throwing her off balance and momentarily blurring her vision. Just as she reached for the door handle, she felt strong hands around her neck and hair, tipping her backward and dragging her toward the darkened alley several feet away. She shrieked and kicked, but her voice was lost in the howling wind. When she was violently thrown to the ground she whipped her head around to see a man whose face bore the wrath of hell, looming over her.

Something shiny glinted against light. A knife. But it wasn’t the weapon that frightened her – it was the pitch black of his eyes that spoke of his intentions to kill her that scared the shit out of her. Elsa scrambled back until her shoulders hit a wall behind her, and screamed again.

After everything she had been through… this is how her life was going to end? In a dirty alley in the middle of winter? To hell with that…

***

A quick GPS tracking of her phone brought Victor to Elsa’s location. He parked his car near hers when he spotted it, and exited to seek her out. The wind died down just long enough for him to hear the edge of hysteria in her voice as her scream tore through the air. The urge to protect her washed over him and his brain kicked into high gear as his feet carried him to her. A man standing just over six feet tall, brandishing a knife, had just lunged at her.

His mind whirled with everything he had been trained to do and his FBI instincts kicked in. In an attempt to subdue the man, he threw the weight of his body against him, upsetting his equilibrium. Elsa scratched at his face and delivered a knee to his balls, giving Victor the split second he needed to pull his knife-wielding arm away from her.

The frigid, night air filled his lungs as he fought against the man’s thrashing movements. He pulled the man’s arms behind him, and staggered backwards when the wind slammed against them, causing him to lose his footing on an icy patch. He spun his body as they tumbled to the ground, landing on top of the man. With one of his arms pinned beneath the man, Victor pounded into his kidney with his free hand.

The perpetrator fought ferociously against Victor and his grip on the knife was unrelenting despite Victor’s best efforts to free it from his hand. Victor managed to tear his arm out from underneath the man and throw it around his neck. He pulled back against the man’s throat to try and choke him unconscious, but he was strong. So strong. He was thin and Victor outweighed him by at least thirty pounds, but he had the kind of lunatic strength only seen in psychopaths. The man coughed and sputtered, but twisted his body into an unnatural position making Victor lose his hold as they rolled around on the snowy ground.

He was quick and lithe, and jumped to his feet only to lunge at Elsa again, determined to kill her. Clambering to his knees, Victor reached into his waistband for his Glock, thankful that it hadn’t been knocked loose.

It wasn’t something he generally carried on short trips outside his home, even though, technically, he was required to. But for some reason he had brought it along. The lingering feeling that something was going to happen had been eating away at him since the night before, and still had him on high-alert. And it was a good thing.

The man saw the gun, but made no attempt to yield. Instead, the hostility in his eyes turned to vehemence. He wildly swung the knife in Victor’s direction and then Elsa’s, as if not caring that he would be shot dead. He was truly psychotic. So be it. If he wanted to die, then Victor would accommodate him. He steadied his freezing cold hands, aimed and gently pressed against the trigger, waiting for the shot to jolt through him.

“Victor, no!” Elsa shrieked.

When Victor wavered, the knife-wielding man grinned with a malevolence that turned his blood to ice water. His gut clenched again with another foreboding sense of doom. He had only seen a smile like that on one other person: his father.

Time seemed to slow as the man dropped his hand to his side and turned to run. Readjusting his aim, Victor squeezed the trigger until he felt the click. An earsplitting shot echoed through the alley and a shock wave ripped through him. Then, the smell of sulfur.