Page 43 of The Villain We Tempt

But this time, the backdrop behind The Ghost Prince isslipping.

The top right corner looks like it’s peeled away from the tape or whatever was holding it up. I spread my pinched fingers across the screen to zoom in.

What the fuck.

There’s a window behind his backdrop—an old, dusty, iron-framed factory window. But it’s not the window itself that has my jaw dropping.

It’s the fact thatthrough it, I can see a row of brick buildings, including one with a little sign over the door that says “The Seven Bells.”

My pulse skips.

The Seven Bells is a watering hole in downtown Hawthorne Hollow which claims to be the oldest bar in the country.

The Ghost Prince just slipped up.

Badly.

Because the man who has a video of me that could blow up my life just accidentally gave away his filming location.

Maybe it’s his apartment, maybe it’s just his content studio. Either way, I know where he is. Which means I might know where thatvideois.

This little fucking game of his ends tonight.

Forty-five minutes later,I’m standing outside The Seven Bells. Across the street are the piers that jut out into the harbor where local fishermen dock for the night before grabbing a few drinks at the bar behind me.

Next to the docks is a handful of low, brick industrial buildings, including an old warehouse that the town uses as an indoor/outdoor events space and for a farmers' market in the fall.

Past that, near the end of the longest pier, is the old harbormaster’s office—a narrow, three-story brick building with a small lighthouse tower on top of it. Google says it used to act asthe check-in point for boats docking in town, but it’s been empty for the last few decades.

What Googledoesn’tknow is that I’m pretty sure it’s where The Ghost Prince films his content, considering the view through the window where his backdrop slipped in his last video.

Fifteen minutes ago, when I was still sitting in my car parked in the side street next to the bar, I watched a dark figure slip out of that old harbormaster’s office, slink through the shadows to a Land Rover with plates I couldn’t see, and drive away.

Now’s my chance.

Logically, you might assume The Ghost Prince would keep his phone—and the video he took of me—on his person. But I got a look at the phone he had in his hand back in the library. It had one of those special wide-lens attachments on it, as well as a stabilizing handle grip.

I’ve used phone accessories like those, and they’re great for filming, but theydoturn your phone into a dedicated content-filming device, since both attachments are pretty bulky and tough to get back off again.

So, ifthisis where he typically films his content, it’s also probably where he keeps his filmingequipment.

…Like the phone with a certain very incriminating video ofmeon it.

Time to delete that shit.

I keep to the shadows as I make my way down the dark pier until I get to the rusty side door to the old harbormaster’s office. A grin spreads over my face when I try the knob and find it unlocked.

Asidefrom the Jane Doe sitting in the morgue, Hawthorne Harbor is a very safe town with basically zero crime. I hear it’s honestly not even that uncommon for people to leave their doors unlocked.

Sorry, Ghost Prince, that’s going to cost you your leverage tonight.

I slip into a room that’s completely dark but for the sliver of moonlight coming through the same partially exposed window I saw in his video. It'sjustenough light to show me the brick walls, bed to one side, little kitchen area, desk with a few shelves of books, and tripod sitting in the center of the space, facing the backdrop.

A tripod fitted with a wireless microphone receiver, a ring light…and aphoneclipped into the base of it.

My lips curl wickedly.

Checkmate, motherfucker.