Page 45 of Framed Obsession

“Yeah. Zane and I are friends,” he admits.

“Wait. Is this the Axel that's your client?” Zoe asks, making the situation even more awkward. I give her a shameful nod. Just kill me now. It would make this less painful. Spare my dignity, please.

“Your face is red. Is this where he grabbed you?” Axel runs his thumb down my cheek, and as much as I want to enjoy the sentiment, the burn it leaves is all I can focus on. I pull my face back.

“Yeah. He took off. I don’t know where he went,” I blurt out, realizing that he might have gotten away. Axel and Zane look at each other one more time, and the look they give each other doesn’t need spoken words.

“Stay until the police show up. It would be good to give them a report,” Zane suggests to Z and me.

“Where are you going?” Z asks him as he lets go of his hold around her waist. Instead of responding, Axel does, with venom laced in his voice.

“To find this motherfucker.”

Chapter 33

The Stalker

Follow You - Bring Me The Horizon

Ipush the feelings I have of almost getting caught, out of the way. That's a conversation for another day, and I know she is going to fucking hate me when she knows the truth. Unfortunately for her, she’s already mine. If she tries to run, I will fucking chase her. If she tries to hide, I will fucking find her. If she tries to get away, I will fucking trap her. It’s too late for her to escape me.

Zane and I rush out of the store, looking for any sign of where Parker could have gone. A car zooming way too fast in a pedestrian zone catches our attention. As if my blood isn’t already boiling, I then realize what car the reckless driver is in, and I swear steam just shot out of my ears.

We quickly get to my car and hop in, not wasting a second that could be used to chase after him. I make my way to the main street onto which I just saw him swerve. Zane is in the passenger seat, pulling his laptop out. He brings it everywhere with him, and in this instance, I’m glad he does.

“Where the fuck am I going, Zane?” I ask eagerly. He types on his keyboard at a speed I’ve never seen his fingers go.

“Keep going straight. I know he’s traveling down the main street. We would know if he made a turn,” he responds. I press on the gas, flying through any red lights we come up on. Horns all around go off in my direction. I roll down my window, holding my middle finger up to everyone. Nothing and no one will stop me from getting to the fucker that decided to lay his hands on my girl, not even the law.

“I still see him heading down the main street. So, just keep going. I’m trying to hack into the cameras ahead to make sure we don’t miss it if he exits,” he explains, still typing and clicking. I swerve in and out between traffic, our bodies swaying uncontrollably with the inertia. A light ahead turns yellow, and I know I’m going to need another way around.

“Red light, tell me where to turn, Zane,” I demand.

“Turn right. Less traffic. Looks like he's curving west, anyway. You can shortcut it if you stay here until you hit Lincoln Street. Then turn left.” He signals right as I’m quickly approaching the turn. I shift gears, ready to do whatever I need to in order to turn. I see him holding on to the door handle as we veer right. The scent of burnt rubber surrounds us as the sound of screeching ‌tires fills the air.

I turn the wheel as hard as I can, and we lift off the ground ever so slightly. A car to my left brakes hard as I take up two lanes with my fast and furious stunt. His horn blares at us, but I keep going. Anyone can fucking hate me, it’s a feeling I’m used to.

“I think he stopped at his house?” Zane says, but it’s more of a question.

“What do you mean?” I snap. Needing him to just explain rather than speculate.

“He stopped. And it's in a suburban neighborhood.” He points to his screen, and I can see the car parked in front of a fancy estate. What a fucking idiot if he did. Now we know where he lives and where to find him. I’m sure this is where the cops are going to look first, too.

“Turn here, go up until you reach Morrison; he lives in the Meadow Hills Estates,” he directs. I turn onto Lincoln, glad there isn’t as much traffic on the back streets. My arms shake with my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. The anticipation of beating this motherfucker has me ready to jump out of this car already.

We approach the neighborhood, and Zane signals to a home at the end of a dead-end street. The homes are spaced ‌a few acres apart. Which is good news for us, the neighbors may not hear his fucking screams for mercy. I pull into his driveway, and we both jump out.

“In the trunk,” I tell him, slamming my door shut. I press the button on my key fob, and the trunk lid pops open. A large duffel bag sits alone in the spacious compartment. He reaches in, unzips it, then gives me a raised look.

“So, you just keep a bag full of murder equipment with you at all times?” he asks, judging me.

“Look, it’s coming in handy, isn’t it?” I question back, grabbing the bag and shutting the trunk. He shakes his head like I’m crazy. Maybe I am fucking crazy.

I nod to the large white camera pointing in our direction. Looks like Parker has a few surveillances of all angles to his house. Zane gives me a wave of his hand, dismissing their presence like he isn’t worried one bit about them. I’m sure he will wipe them clean afterwards.

We approach the door, careful not to let him hear us. I press on the doorhandle with ease, giving Zane a quick glance before creaking it open. We wait a moment, listening for Parker before entering. The sound of rummaging from the floor above catches our attention.

Looks like we’re headed upstairs.