It felt like her mind waded through quicksand as it tried to process everything she was seeing. Then, she spotted the paper Ethan pulled away from the cat. "Ethan—"
"Stay back, Emma." She barely heard him, but something about the tone of his voice froze her in place.
His upper lip curled into a sneer; he went to crumple the paper, but she stopped him. "I want to read it."
He glanced at her over his shoulder. "I'm not sure you do."
Emma threw her shoulders back and stretched out her hand. "I'm not backing down from anything he does."
Ethan glanced at the paper and the dead cat before reluctantly handing her the note. Emma hated the shaking in her hand, but she couldn't stop it as she took the paper from him and slowly unfolded it. She recognized Tristan's hastily scrawled writing immediately.
You're still mine, no matter who you fuck. Next time it will be his body on your doorstep. I'm watching you.
Emma's stomach twisted, and she almost threw up the meager contents of her breakfast. She knew Tristan wasn't right in the head, that something malevolent dwelled within him, but she’d never expected this—the poor cat.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she took in the broken body of the innocent animal. At the same time, rage swelled up within her, but she wasn't sure if she was more infuriated, saddened, or terrified right now.
Ethan rose and stepped toward her, but she held up her hand to ward him off. "You should stay away...he's not...he can see..." she choked out as her gaze went over his shoulder to the door beyond.
"I don't care," Ethan said and wrapped his arms around her.
Her hands flattened against his chest as she tried to push him away, but he refused to let her go. Despite her good intentions to keep him away, she found her fingers curling into his shirt and pulling him closer.
"You should be running from here. You should be getting as far from this insanity as you can. You're in danger—"
"No, I'm not," he said forcefully. "And I am not going anywhere. No matter what happens, I’m staying by your side, Emma."
"Ethan, he's obviously unstable, look at the cat." She took a shuddery breath as she fought not to fall apart completely. "We should call the police."
His hands flattened on her back. "There's no proof he did any of this, Emma. I know you thought you saw him, but we don't know where he is, or where to start looking for him. The police can’t do much."
She frowned at his words. "But they can start looking for him. With his prior history, if they can find him on the island, they may be able to do something."
Ethan's mind spun as he tried to come up with some way to keep her from going to the police. It was the normal, human reaction to something like this, but he didn’t want human interference. He was determined to find this man and seek his revenge. He'd tried for years to keep his murderous impulses restrained, but he was willing to let the monster inside him feast on the bastard tormenting her. But if humans were involved, and Tristan went missing, they might look to him.
"If I don't report this, and it escalates, they'll question why I waited," she continued.
None of the reasons running through his head sounded like a plausible excuse for her not to go to the police without sounding suspicious or unsupportive. He'd have to make sure Tristan's body was never found.
"Okay, I'll call them. Why don't you sit down and try to relax," he said as he led her over to the couch. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
Emma shook her head as she sat numbly on the couch. She realized she was still holding the crumpled note and dropped it on the table.
By the time the police left Emma felt completely drained, another shower and a nap sounded like two of the most pleasant options in the world to her. Ethan was in the kitchen when she emerged from the shower, the delicious scent of grilled cheese drifted to her, and though sleep had been her next goal, comfort food seemed preferable right now.
She settled onto a stool at the breakfast bar as he flipped one of the sandwiches in the pan. "I scrubbed the front door," he told her.
A pang stabbed her heart, and some of her appetite dwindled away. "Thank you."
"The police will find him; it's not that big of an island," he said reassuringly.
Emma hoped so; they seemed concerned about the situation, competent, and promised to keep an eye out for Tristan. Ethan placed a plate with two sandwiches on it before her. Resting his arms on the counter, he bent down to look her in the eye.
"We're going to get through this," he told her. "Now eat."
Emma picked up one of the sandwiches and started peeling the crust from it. "Thank you, for everything. I think most people would run screaming for the hills at a dead cat on a doorstep and the knowledge of a psycho ex."
"I have a lot of crazy things in my life too."
"Like what?"
Ethan took a deep breath and watched as her small fingers deftly peeled the last of the crust from the sandwich. "Like nine overprotective, incredibly nosey siblings, and a crazy house I share with some of them. It's rarely quiet, and they're always into one thing or another. My parents are so in love that, at times it's sickening, and their crazy friends from college also stay on the property with us, along with my brother-in-law, when he and Isabelle aren't traveling."
"Your parent's college friends live with you too?" she asked in disbelief.
Ethan had never found it odd The Stooge's stayed with them over the years, but he could see
