Stalked By The Mad Dog Nephew

Sunlight sliced through the gaps in the blinds, hitting Avery squarely in the face. She groaned, rolling over, burying her face in the pillow. For a moment, she felt a profound sense of peace. She was safe. No one knew where she was.

Then, she smelled it.

Bacon.

Crispy, salty, hickory-smoked bacon.

Confusion fogged her brain. She lived alone. She hadn't hired staff yet.

She sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

In the corner of the bedroom, sitting in a velvet armchair he must have uncovered, was Brandon Garrison.

He was wearing a black t-shirt that stretched tight across his chest and grey sweatpants. He looked infuriatingly casual. He was holding a plate of eggs and bacon, watching her sleep with the intensity of a scientist observing a specimen.

Avery's breath caught in her throat, a sharp, silent gasp. She didn't scream. She scrambled back against the headboard, her hand closing around the heavy base of the bedside lamp, gripping it like a weapon.

"How did you get in?!" she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous hiss.

Brandon didn't flinch. He held up a white plastic card. "Cloned key card. Security here is a joke. You really need to upgrade."

"Get out!" Avery said, her knuckles white on the lamp. "I'm divorced! I'm not your aunt anymore!"

Brandon smiled. "Exactly. Which means you're free game now."

He stood up and walked toward the bed.

Avery pressed herself against the wall, her breath coming in short, controlled pants. "I'm calling the police."

"Go ahead," Brandon said, stopping at the edge of the mattress. "Tell them your nephew broke in to make you breakfast."

He tossed her phone onto the duvet. It bounced near her knee.

"Eat," he commanded. The tone was domestic, but the look in his eyes was predatory.

"I'm not hungry," Avery spat.

"You need protein," he said. He leaned over, placing his hands on the mattress on either side of her legs. The mattress dipped under his weight. "I heard what you did to Augustus."

Avery froze.

"The needle," Brandon whispered, his eyes gleaming with admiration. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "The pen my lawyer left on the table? It was a microphone. I heard every word. Poking holes in the condoms? That was… brilliant. Twisted. Evil. Brilliant."

Avery's grip on the lamp loosened slightly. Of course. He had bugged the room. "How did you know where to find me?"

Brandon tapped his temple. "I see everything, Avery. The tracker I put in your coat is military-grade."

He leaned closer. "I'm the only one who knows what you really are. You're a monster, Avery. Just like me."

"I am nothing like you," she hissed.

"We belong together," he said, his voice dropping to a rough growl. "You know it."

Avery lashed out. She kicked him squarely in the chest.

Brandon stumbled back, laughing. He looked delighted by the violence.

"Eat the eggs," he said, turning toward the door. "They'll get cold."

He walked out, leaving the bedroom door wide open.