24| Stranger

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Stranger

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Chapter 24: Stranger (Dante's POV)

Another exasperated breath escaped me as I shifted my weight from one foot to another before spinning around altogether and pacing a few steps back and forth, then returning to the vacant spot beside Anastasia. 

"Is this doing anything?" I demanded, glancing at my watch once again. "Except wasting time, of course," I added with a light scoff. 

"Be quiet," she said sharply, staring at the painting mounted onto the wall. 

Taking a few steps to the side, I rested against the pillar, precisely where I had found her after the crowd had transformed into a mob, desperate to view the savage and barbaric sight in the basement. 

My eyes followed her gaze to the painting, and I scanned the piece once again, taking in the sight of a man, bound to a chair, with his white button-up torn to shreds as he bled out from a thousand cuts, with a dainty lace blindfold covering his eyes, his head tilting back. 

This painting was no different than the others we had found; it depicted the murder and how the body was found perfectly. 

Anastasia began shaking her head slowly as she took a step back and turned to me. "This one's different." 

I eyed the painting once more before focusing on her. "How is this any different? We're wasting time analyzing the paintings with such scrutiny. It's just a way for the killer to show us the body we'll discover soon in a twisted, artistic manner." 

"No, it's different," she insisted. "So far, there have been grand reveals of the bodies and even the paintings. Not this time. Just like every other piece here, it was on display. The body wasn't brought to the main hall." 

"No, but the guests were all led there," I retorted. 

"That means it's not for show," she said pointedly. "Not for the crowd anyway, but... for us. You were right." 

"I always am, Ms Vitalio," I replied, lifting a brow at her. 

Her eyes narrowed on me for a moment before her brows furrowed in confusion. "What's the matter with you?" 

What was the matter with me? I had no fucking clue. If this case wasn't already maddening enough, with our killer playing mind games and making fools out of us, I now had Anastasia making a fool out of me too. 

Last night was a mistake; I never should have acted on impulse. I shouldn't have kissed her, I shouldn't have fucked her, I should have just kept my fucking distance. She warned me, made it clear that we wouldn't have sex again. 

Memories of last night flashed in my mind and burned through my skin like a vicious curse. I'd spent all day craving her again, but this morning she'd made it very clear; I'd overstayed my welcome. 

I couldn't decide what was worse, the fact that we were at our killer's mercy with no headway in this goddamn case, or the fact that my carnal desire for Anastasia overpowered my rationality. I was more focused on her and had been the entire fucking night than I was on working. She proved to be the most dangerous of distractions. 

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