Chapter 1

My name was Eden Cargill.

I had a secret.

The numbers hovering over people’s heads were visible to me.

Those digits represented a person’s malice toward me.

Most people’s values were between 0 and 50.

The cranky driver on the road hit about 20.

The editor breathing down my neck for my next draft was a 45.

So long as the value did not exceed 60, I felt pretty much safe.

That changed when I moved into an old neighborhood.

To save money, I rent an apartment on the top floor.

The landlady handed me the keys with a smile.

The number over her head was 5. She was harmless.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I hauled my heavy luggage up the stairs.

The elevator was out of order.

I lived on the sixth floor.

By the fourth floor, I was out of breath.

The lights in the stairwell flickered on and off.

The sound-activated light seemed a little faulty.

I stomped my foot hard.

The lights didn’t come on.

Then came the click of a lock turning amid the darkness.

My neighbor from across the hall stepped out.

I looked up.

He was gorgeous, easily the hottest hunk I’d ever laid eyes on.

The man had a sculpted nose, thinly drawn lips, and dark, unreadable eyes.

He wore a black turtleneck, his sleeves rolled up to show his strong, pale arms.

In his hand was a trash bag.

I was about to say hello when my eyes caught the figure above his head.

My smile froze.

There, glowing in vivid red, was the number: 1,111.

The worst part was that it was still fluctuating.

My blood ran cold.

That was pure bloodlust.

It was a raw, undisguised intent to kill.

I had never seen such a high value before.

I once came across a creep on the subway at 300, and I thought that was bad.

Was the man planning to kill me?

Maybe he wanted to set the whole world on fire.

Picking up on my gaze, the man looked over.

His pitch-dark eyes were fixed on me.

His lips curled almost unnoticeably.

“Just moved in?”

His voice was husky and rich.

To me, it sounded like a grim reaper whispering in my ear.

I nodded stiffly.

My fingers clutched the handle of my luggage.

My knuckles went white.

“Hello.”

I could hear the tremor in my voice.

The digits hovering over his head jumped.

1,112.

It went up by one.

I had to wonder if it was because I talked to him.

He took one step toward me.

Despite my intention to back away, my feet were planted to the ground.

A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air.

It carried a hint of rust.

No, it was blood.

The odor was subtle, but I caught it.

As a thriller writer, I was perceptive to these kinds of things.

He switched the trash bag to his left.

The guy extended his right hand.

“I’m Logan McCoy.”

His hand was long, fair, and well-defined at the joints.

All my mind could picture was the possibly blood in that hand.

I didn’t return the handshake.

The very thought terrified me.

“I-I’m Eden Cargill.”

Snapping my head down in a fluster, I shied away from his gaze.

“Um… I have lots to unpack. Excuse me.”

I practically scrambled away.

Pulling the keys out, I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.

I couldn’t line the key with the hole.

A soft chuckle echoed from the back.

“Need a hand?”

He was right behind me, barely a foot away.

I could feel the chill radiating from him.

“No!” I shrieked.

At last, the door unlocked.

I bolted into the apartment and slammed the door shut.

After bolting the door, I hooked the safety chain in place.

With my back against the door frame, I gasped for air.

My heart thumped out of my chest.

A grave-like silence pressed against the door.

It felt like an eternity before footsteps walked off into the distance.

I checked through the peephole.

The hallway was deserted.

The black trash bag sat alone by his door, forgotten.

What was in the bag? Dismembered body parts?

For all I knew, it could be a murder weapon of some kind.

I had to stop my thoughts from spiraling.

That night, I started searching online for nearly listings.

I wanted to move out.

It must happen right now.

Even if I stood to lose my deposit, I wanted out of there.

Logan was too dangerous to hang around.