He smashed through the screen door, bending the flimsy metal frame of it. Once broken, it was easy to reach in and turn the knob.

The rear door opened into the kitchen, the perfect entry point. John had come unarmed knowing that his subject kept plenty of suitable weapons on hand. He rifled through drawers, testing one of her knives in his hand, feeling the weight of it. They were all cheap, but John was not a chef nor a butcher. He would make do with a dulled blade. Her own neglect would only cause her pain.

John drew himself up tall once inside the house. This was his domain now. He did not need to creep through the shadows to keep hidden anymore. She would know his presence.

Fingers wrapped tight around the handle of a chef's blade, John moved in direction of the staircase.

Then, out of nowhere, lights flickered on, flooding the upstairs landing with light. A figure whipped out of the bedroom, clutching her cellphone. She spotted him, her eyes immediately going wide as she took on the look of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Her demise was inevitable.

But instead of standing frozen like a deer, she lunged.

John was caught between amusement and frustration as she vaulted over the railing, making a break for the front door. She fumbled with a lock, flipping it before throwing her weight against the door.

She stumbled back as it didn't throw itself open the way she expected. John dove after her, attempting to catch her while she was still surprised by the unforgiving door. She dodged away, pulling down the hall stand as she did, letting the wood drop on top of John.

He swung an arm out viciously, knife whistling through the air.

She aimed to put up a fight the way none of his other victims had. This would be a most enriching challenge.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

It could end two ways. It could be a mirror of the night she found Asher, after it was already too late. Or it could be the moment she caught Vallejo and ended his legacy with a prison sentence.

Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. She ignored the way the needle climbed around the odometer.

The roads were practically empty as Ruby navigated through the city to Dana Jacobson's listed address. Streetlights flashed over her in rapid succession as she raced by them, one after the other.

There was the barest hint of color on the horizon, seen only in slivers between buildings. Everything about the drive echoed her past, right down to the adrenaline coursing through her body.

At this hour, there was no one but her. It felt nearly apocalyptic, as if there was only her and her quarry left in the world.