OVER MY DEAD FUCKING EXISTENCE, YOU FUCKER!

LUCIEN’S POINT OF VIEW. I stared at the red note in my hand, the fresh one I’d picked from my car on my way here. I wanted to shred it, to set it ablaze, to take out my frustrations on the piece of paper, at least until I found the hands responsible for doing this. The contents of it left me feeling confused about its meaning. ‘She’s about to be mine now… It’s only a matter of agreements.’ What the hell could that mean? Does this fucker think Sloane’s gonna be his? The thought drew a humourless smile from me, because I knew no one would take what’s mine from me. Fierce possessiveness flared in my chest as I flipped the note slowly, while staring at it like it was something interesting. It really was, though. Because for the life of me, it felt like I knew whose handwriting this was. I sent the previous note to my fingerprint expert, but as I expected, there were no prints on it. There was just something about the handwriting…it felt like I’d seen this before. My phone dinged with a mes