Love makes you foolish. It makes you throw every bit of logic away, do stupid things, dangerous things.
★

In high school, Rosalia had dated a jock. His name was Lucas. He was your cliche jock. Overly cocky, overly chauvinistic and underwhelmingly unintelligent. It's not what you are thinking, though. Rosalia was not a hot cheerleader or the class president or anything like that. And she definitely was not the type to be attracted to jocks. She preferred wallflowers because they intrigued her. There was something enigmatic about wallflowers that drew her in. Rosalia had not dated Lucas because she liked him. All she had wanted at the time was fame.

Getting Lucas to like her  —much less notice her— had been difficult. Rosalia had done the unthinkable to get him to go out with her. Including going on morning runs with him just so that they could randomly bump into each other. Back then, she'd been an obsequious whore. A harlot with no standards. Not that harlots had any standards to begin with but that was besides the point.

They had been together for two weeks before Lucas had dumped her, claiming that she was not good for his image. He was the football captain and she was just....her: A mediocre with no notable achievements. A very relieved Rosalia had vowed never to go for morning runs again unless she was in some sort of mortal danger.

Today was an exception.

The cool September autumn winds were a welcome respite to the heat building up in Rosalia's mind. The wind caressed her face like a mother's touch and she loved it. The only downside was that it was threatening to rain. Still Rosalia ran. She ran until her thighs burned and her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. Then she ran some more.

Why was she running around the block at 5a.m in the morning?

It was because she was scared. Scared was an understatement. She was utterly terrified.

And why was she utterly terrified?

It was because of Archer's stupid phone call. Rosalia wished that she hadn't answered the phone. Then she wouldn't have found out about Archer's murderous half brother. She wouldn't have known that her life was possibly in danger. And she would still be asleep in her bed.

Rosalia continued to run until her knees buckled. Only then did she stop. The area she was in was somewhat desolate. She fell to her knees and screamed until her throat felt raw and scratchy. She felt a hundred times better afterwards. Her therapist had never told her that screaming was cathartic. The reason as to why she needed a therapist in the first place was a story for another day.

The journey back home proved arduous. Rosalia's legs were as limp as noodles. She felt like she had run a marathon. No way she would fail to sleep now; serial killer on the loose or not. She deserved some sleep after the week she'd had.

Rosalia passed a few early risers on her return journey. Some were already jogging, while others were stretching outside their homes in preparation for their morning run.

A man wearing extremely short red shorts that accentuated his bulge and showcased his very hairy and very pale legs put on his whitest smile and waved. She didn't wave back. Rosalia had never liked perky people. Plus, the man reminded her of Lucas.

Rosalia's house was easy to spot even from a distance. It was the tallest house on the lane. Her house was so opulent —so flamboyant— that it looked fragile. It was one of those houses with a huge spiral staircase made of glass. She fished out her keys from her pants pocket and held it between her fingers like a weapon. She was ready to stab anyone who so much as looked at her wrongly. When no one stepped forth to attack her, she inserted the key into the lock.

And then a movement caught Rosalia's eye. The hedges infront of her house were shaking like they were being blown by a strong gust of wind. Rosalia turned around just in time to see a black cat jump out of the hedge. The cat stared straight at her, it's lime green eyes glowing in the dark. Rosalia could swear on a stack of Bibles that she had seen it wink at her. It yawned, showcasing two miniscule but deadly canines and sauntered away.

Rosalia rushed into her house, switching on every single light in the house until she was sure that there was no shadow that couldn't be explained away. That stupid cat had left her more rattled than she'd like to admit. Her home probably looked like the equivalent of a neon lamp. A neighbor was sure to come and complain about the lights. But she didn't give a shit. A serial killer was after her. She had the right to act like this.

Rosalia paced her bedroom. She was tired but she couldn't sleep. She was too terrified to sleep. She eyed her phone and gave in to the temptation to check her social media. At least it would help with the terror induced insomnia.

As expected, there were one hundred plus notifications on her Instagram alone. Majority of them were likes and comments on her most recent post. It was a picture she had taken at the airport. One of the workers at the airport had taken it. She had been elegantly clad in a vintage double breasted long white trench coat. There were also a few inquiries on her divorce in the comments and in her Direct messages. Nothing too violent, though. But that was to be expected. Instagram was not the app for savagery. Twitter was.

Rosalia knew that checking Twitter would jeopardize her mental health. But she really wanted to know what people's honest opinions were on the divorce. So she checked Twitter. In her case, curiosity really did kill the cat.

#ARCHEMI was trending. No surprise there. Archer had become a sort of celebrity because of Rosalia. After all, he was the husband of an international model. The hashtag wasn't even that great. It sounded like that old novel by Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist. Her hashtag was way better, #ARCHALIA. Now that was a hashtag that exuded royalty and elegance. Nonetheless, Rosalia read all the tweets under the bogus hashtag.

I personally love Emilia for Archer. No offense but Rosalia's aura is just dark if you get what I mean. #ARCHEMI

LOL. Is it only me who thinks that this divorce should have happened a while ago. #ARCHEMI.

If y'all know Archer and Emilia's story, then you know that it's a classic story of the hero falling for the damsel in distress. Wattpad authors should be all over this. LOL #ARCHEMI.

Rosalia was literally strangling her phone in her hands. They were laughing at her expense. It was just like that time in school when they were teasing her for being an early bloomer. She tried to take deep calming breaths as her therapist had suggested. They were not calming her down. If anything, they were aggravating the situation. Rosalia threw the phone on her bed and it rang almost immediately.

"What?" Rosalia screamed.

"Now, is that any way to talk to your mother."

Rosalia almost hung up. Almost. "What do you want?"

"Not me dear. It's your father. One of his business partners, Jamie Fitzwilliam, lost his son today. You must have heard about it on the news.He wants to know if you will be able to attend the burial."

Rosalia rolled her eyes. Her mother should know that she never watched the news unless they were talking about her.

"I still have things to attend to." Rosalia said with gritted teeth.

"Don't tell me you are going to try to fix your marriage? Are you still hell bent on getting revenge?" Her mother laughed.

"Of course. He has to pay for what he did to my brother."

"And what did he do, honey? Shooting a criminal isn't exactly a cause for revenge. Is it now?"

"Archer was —and still is— just one of those trigger happy cops who get off on shooting innocent people."

"You are so good at apportioning blame to everyone but yourself. If anyone is to blame for your brother's death, it's you. You're the one who sent him to that awful place to begin with."

"I'm not going to talk about this with you. Bottom line is, I am going to have my revenge. I will not allow him to move on so easily."

Rosalia's mother remained silent for a while. Rosalia's mother was only silent when she was really angry or when she was psychoanalyzing someone.

"You love him, don't you?"

"What the fuck?"

"You have been married to him for five years. Why haven't you taken your revenge yet?"

"Because–"

"Because you probably married him with an aim of taking revenge but then you fell in love with him. That's why you ran away. That's why you were never at home with him. That's why you spent so much time in Italy and in Spain. Because you were scared that if you stayed in the same room as him, you wouldn't have resisted getting close to him. Am I right or am I extremely right?"

"N-n-no. I don't love him. Never have. Never will. I already told you–"

"I already know what you are going to say. You are going to say that you are a heartless woman with no emotions blah blah blah." She paused. "Honey, everyone says they don't have a heart until it gets broken. Only then do they realize that they had one. If you were so sure that you didn't love Archer, why did you hesitate?"

Rosalia could feel her mother's smirk through the phone.

"Shut the fuck up!" Rosalia screamed.

"Use that mouth for pleasuring your soon-to-be ex-husband instead. Maybe then he will take you back. Honey, give up your revenge. Allow yourself to finally be happy."

"And how should I do that?"

"I will not be surprised if you become the only casualty of your revenge. Don't you forget that I know the real truth about what happened to your brother. If I have not told your father, it's because I love him too much to cause him the pain of knowing that his own daughter was the cause of his son's death. One more thing, if you still consider us your family, you will come for the burial. I will text you the details. Toodles." Rosalia's mother hung up.

Rosalia screamed again. This time the screaming could not soothe her. Nothing could.

★★★

Rosalia's eyes flew open. She had heard the sound again. Until now, she had dismissed the sound as a fabrication of her dreams or fears. Or both. Now there was no denying it. Someone was in her house. She sat upright in bed and contemplated her next course of action. She always kept a baseball under her pillow. At least there was that. She held the bat in her hands and did what every character in most horror movies did: Instead of getting help, she went in search of the intruder. On her own

Rosalia had reached her bedroom door when she heard the sound of movements. She did not get to turn as a gloved hand was clamped over her mouth and the cool barrel of a gun was pressed against her temple. The intruder pulled her against his body, dragged her back into her room and threw her on her bed roughly, causing her head to hit the headboard. Rosalia tasted blood.

Through the light filtering in through the curtains, Rosalia could make out the man's face. Woah, the man looked like an older version of Archer if you looked at him closely. Yes, his hair was greying at the temples. And yes, he had bags under his brown eyes from lack of sleep but there was no denying that he was Archer's brother. The infamous Matthias was in her house. In her room. And he was looking at her the way a man eating lion looks at a juicy piece of human flesh.

Matthias straddled Rosalia's thighs, curled his fingers around her sweaty neck and squeezed. Rosalia clawed at his hands and chest but he didn't let go. She saw dark spots dance around her eyes. Her life was being squeezed out of her. She was going to pass out or die, whichever came first. Just as the world started to go dark, she remembered something her mother had told her when she was ten.

They had just witnessed a couple fighting at the mall. Her mother had turned to her and said, "See that woman is doing it all wrong. You shouldn't fight a man physically. You either fight him with your brain or you arouse him. After all, men will always be men."

Rosalia bucked her hips into his groin like a seductress, a husky moan escaping her lips. She felt Matthias grow hard on top of her. Her plan was working. Matthias looked at her with a mixture of shock, amusement and arousal. At least he was no longer strangling her.

Rosalia bit her lower lip, looking suggestively at Matthias' groin. "Didn't Archer tell you that I like it rough."

He laughed. "I must admit. My brother has great taste in women."

Matthias shoved his tongue down Rosalia's throat. He licked her neck her jaw and her ear. Rosalia inwardly cringed. She forced one of her hands to massage his scalp while the other surreptitiously felt around for his gun. Rosalia gripped the gun with her hand and hit Matthias over the head. He groaned and rolled off her, falling onto the floor with a thud.

Scrambling off the bed, Rosalia willed her grip on the gun to be steady as she aimed it at his head. Matthias was going to pay for breaking into her house. Rosalia was going to be the one to end him. He would be one less criminal walking the streets. She pulled the trigger.

Click.

Rosalia tried again.

Click, click.

And Matthias laughed. A full belly laugh that sent chills down Rosalia's spine.

"You don't think I walk around in the dark with a loaded gun?" Matthias laughed again.

Now Rosalia was scared. Matthias did something with his foot that made Rosalia fall on her ass. In a flourish of movements, he was on top of her again. This time he wringed her neck like one does a wet cloth.

A lightbulb snapped on. Not in the room. In Rosalia's mind.

Emilia.

Why hadn't she thought of this before? If she could, she would have face palmed herself.

"I'm not the one you want." Rosalia croaked out.

Matthias stopped squeezing. He cocked his head to the side. "The fuck do you mean."

"Archer and I are getting divorced. He doesn't even love me. You're killing the wrong person. If you want to take revenge on Archer, I know who you should kill. And I can bring her to you."

The man smiled. "You are as nasty as they come."

Rosalia let the comment slide. Had the situation been different, she would have beaten the man to a pulp. "Are you in or not?"

Matthias removed his hands from her neck.

Rosalia took that as a sign. "I'll get her to you within twelve hours."

Matthias narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want to help me?"

Rosalia raised her chin, a salient show of her pride. "I have a bone to pick with that woman. In reality, you are the one helping me. I don't have to get my hands dirty. Deal or no deal?"

"Deal." Matthias replied. And he got out of Rosalia's house.

Matthias stood outside Rosalia's house, admiring the orange sun rise. Morning was fast approaching.

"It will be very fun killing the both of them."  Matthias grinned.

And he disappeared with the night.

★

Follow | Vote | Comment | Share

Disclaimer: The incident with Rosalia's brother is not in the first book. Yet again I will say that you don't have to read it before you read this.