Momentarily defeated, Victor sank back into his chair and attempted to pull himself together. Tapping the folder casually, he stared at Anthony.

“Chapter Nine.” Victor only spoke two words, but the hungry look on Anthony’s face revealed his excitement.

“You been working long hours on that one?” his tongue poked out to slick across his top lip.

“Long, hard, hours,” he lied.

Anthony’s pupils flared. “What do you want to know?”

Feeling empowered, Victor straightened up and rested his elbows on the table. “Have you had contact with the killer?”

Anthony smiled a little too widely and his response came a little too quickly. “Of course not. I already told the other agents that. Didn’t you do your homework?”

Bullshit.

The tendons in the back of Victor’s neck tensed at the green-eyed gaze that was staring back at him. He could read Ant like a motherfucking book. It was like looking in a mirror, after all. Yes, he had done his homework, but he knew this piece of shit was a notorious liar and he wanted to hear the words himself.

Victor lowered his voice to a deadly level and calmly stated his intent. “You may have the others fooled, but I’m not some asshole you just met. I know you like I know myself. It may take me awhile to make the connection between the two of you, but I will make the connection. And when I do…”

Anthony’s body stiffened and a murderous look came over him. “You’ll what?” he eyes darkened as his irises dilated fully. “There’s nothing else you can do to me that ain’t already been done. I’m in here for the rest of my fuckin’ life, asshole. I’ll never taste pussy again or sink my cock into cunt. So what are you gonna do to me? Take away my cornbread privileges?” he sarcastically laughed. “Remove me from general population? Oh, yeah. That’s already been done, too. So what exactly do you plan on doing to me?” he rose in his seat, making Victor do the same out of defense.

Smoothly, he reached across the table and slid the folder out of Ant’s reach and put it back in his briefcase. Ant’s jaw muscle quivered.

“Unless you tell me who the killer is, you’ll never read another word of my journals. I know you want to. And let me tell you, Chapter Nine was so fuckably good. Tasty. Tight. And she begged…” Victor’s lusty tone made Ant’s jaw tense and the erection in his prison uniform became visible. “But you’ll never know about her until you give me what I fucking want.”

In the blink of an eye, Ant’s arousal turned to hatred as he seated himself again. “What about Chapter Eight? Where are the notes on that one?” he gripped his stiff dick to readjust himself.

Victor’s composure wavered.

“Fuck Chapter Nine. You want information? Then I want the notes on that little defiant bitch you mentioned before. The one whose spirit you said you liked.”

Victor swallowed loudly as he recalled the meeting where he briefly mentioned Elsa.

“Why is it you’re keeping her all to yourself? Is she tasty, too? Fuckably good and tight?” he mocked. “Did you keep that one as a pet? Is that why you’re so secretive about her?”

Victor gritted his teeth and Mr. Black took over. “Is that how you want to play this? Demand things that you have no right to demand? Okay. But you’ll never know about Chapter Eight. Or Nine for that matter. And you want to know what I’ll do? I’ll make sure you spend the majority of your days in solitary confinement for aiding and abetting a murderer. The privileges taken away will be computer privileges, mail privileges, any kind of social interaction with reporters or interviewers. That’ll really hurt, won’t it, you piece of shit?”

Ant stood and shoved his chair backward, tipping it over and making the guard in the room lunge toward him.

“We’ll see just how far your accomplice will get without your input,” Victor reached for his jacket casually and moved toward the door as a long line of obscenities and threats spilled from Ant’s mouth.

As the door closed behind him, Victor sighed with relief as the dull ache in his chest slowly began to subside. He was done with Anthony Bruce. It was over. And long overdue. Nothing good had ever come from learning of their connection and having contact with him.

It was time to face his past with the Chapter who was demanding to know his secrets. He only hoped he could remain in control when he faced them.

***

The pen touched the paper as Elsa pondered what questions to ask. She only had a few hours left to complete the list that could neither be added to nor changed. It seemed a monumental task and one she hadn’t really prepared herself for.

The quietness in her home was unsettling, making it difficult to think straight. With no one to answer to, she felt oddly out of sorts. Normally Nate would have called to check up on her, but things had changed. He hadn’t called in days. Perhaps he knew the reason for her betrayal. It was a dismal thought, but she couldn’t think about that. To face her own traitorous actions was too difficult a thing to do.

She knew when she started the list earlier that morning what the first question would be: the very one that got her into hot water. The scar. It had been haunting her for more than a year and a half and now she would finally know how it came to be.

Sleep had been minimal the night before and work, unproductive. She had not only been exhausted, but too preoccupied with the list to get anything done. And more concerning, what the repercussions would be of making him give her information.

As she penned the last of her questions, her phone chirped.

MrBlack: Your version of the game begins tonight. I hope you’re ready.

*

Elsa was as ready as she was ever going to be as she slipped the key into the lock of Victor’s home. The loud click and sound of her heels on the tiled floor broke through her calm and she began to tremble. Setting her bag down at her feet, she took a moment to try and recall the song still in her head, Drowning by Banks, or something positive, but nothing came to mind. Not even Nate.

As she came out of her nervous haze, the faint sounds of music drifted from the bedroom and down the staircase. She knew the song well. It was one that was on her own playlist, Flaws by Bastille.

Climbing the stairs, she peeked into his office to see the monitors lit up and the cameras rolling. It was so strange that the man who had hid absolutely every detail of his life from her before, was now laying himself bare for her and allowing her to see the inner workings of his home and private life. A home he was now living in. She wanted to believe that it meant something, but she refused and reminded herself that every step of this game was methodical. He wanted her to think that she was special and that all this meant something, when in reality, it only meant that he was playing the game more fiercely than before.

She would do the same.

When she entered the bedroom, he came out of the bathroom, wearing only a loose fitting pair of running pants. His hair was still damp from his shower and the smell of soap and cologne filled the space, engulfing her in sexual awareness. She closed her eyes, her senses intoxicated with his smell and the vision of the hard lines of his body.

And that tattoo. She had been shocked to see it on his flesh, but it was so fitting, to think of him without it, seemed wrong.

As for her own, she had it touched up during her time away from 2500 East Grace Street. It was hard to see unless you knew what you were looking for, but it was there – one extra beautiful, fragile flower petal and a lone, craggy, broken branch that represented both Victor and Mr. Black.

When she opened her eyes, Victor was standing next to her, his pants now lying on the floor as he watched her. Her mind seesawed back and forth when he reached out and unhurriedly removed her clothes, his lips parting only to pant softly.