The Guru: Shadow (Dark Triad #1)

21. Emma

21

EMMA

PLAYLIST: HOW VILLAINS ARE MADE - MADALEN DUKE

G ame on baby.

Using her own methods against her. It was still a game to him.

He seeks the rush.

He wants to feel alive.

Just like me.

Only he’s violent and manipulating.

She was not stupid, and all of it shouted manipulation. The way he never answered her question. He didn’t even tell her who he really was which infuriated her to a point where her skin was on fire.

And yet, there was a part in her, prickling with exiting apprehension. The part of her that wanted all of it. The part that loved the thrill of a quest. The rush of dopamine. The exhilaration of winning. The thrill of not knowing. The rush of the unpredictable.

It had been too easy to get back to the garage; she was sure he was letting her go, otherwise, the driver, or whoever he was, would have stopped her.

He really meant game on.

She needed the paparazzi gone, so they would not follow her, and then she’d get to her apartment, get Pi and her laptop, and most important stuff, and leave to wherever.

She sat in the Audi, it was the one she first thought of to not draw too much attention to her, it was the only one she had seen in the garage that didn’t scream billionaire all over it. Getting the key was the easiest thing. She had seen Deis opening a sideboard drawer in the reflection when they entered as he placed the gun there. At first, she wanted to take it too, or at least thought about it, but then she’d never use it, and the car keys looked much more appealing.

The car was definitely custom-made, too. The moment she started it, it roared through the garage like hellfire, followed by a full, deep gurgling.

Okay, this is a hell of a car. So much about low-key.

She took a ribbon out of her bag, as well as her fake rimmed glasses. She always had the glasses with her, as they gave her some sort of protection. In the bag, her hand touched Carl’s phone, and although she burned from curiosity, she couldn’t look at it now. Deis would see, for sure. So, she could only hope it wasn’t tapped. But she did not want to turn it off, as it might be protected by a code she didn’t know.

Pulling her hair into a bun, it was all about not being recognized, in case the paparazzi didn’t follow the bait.

Gods, what am I doing here? I feel like a badass villain in a movie.

A small shudder ran down her spine. Somehow, it was thrilling, but it was also sickening. She was taking someone else’s property. She got into the net of a man who definitely had issues, grandiose stalker-like issues.

Desperate times, and he’s got enough money. She pep-talked herself as her righteousness tried to get the better of her.

Aiming for the exit, she saw with surprise, that it opened automatically.

Plate recognition.

He knows.

He’s letting me do it.

It’s the game.

He wants the game.

But how do I outsmart a man who has a security team, who has billions of dollars, and all other resources, even to get protected medical files ?

While I have nothing?

Well, I have brains. So think.

And with it, she drove.

She was absolutely mindless, taking turns here and there, driving in circles and turning back, always watching the rear mirror to see if she was followed, although she believed the car to have a tracker.

Then it clicked.

That’s it. He has everything, he is a famous billionaire. He doesn’t know how to disappear.

I live in fucking Manhattan, the city where you can just as easily disappear, and I know how to disappear.

She drove past her home address, only to see two hooded figures with cameras still lingering. There was also someone standing at the entrance who looked very bulldog-y. That must’ve been the protection Deis talked about.

So, no way of getting Pi and my Laptop out.

Fuck.

She’d text her neighbor later to get Pi out, right now, it was too early. She glanced at the time.

3:33

What is it with that fucking number?

She drove up Upper West Side to Harlem.

When she reached 125 St., she parked near where a few guys hang out on the street and braced herself for what she would do. Her heart racing, she closed her eyes for a couple of moments.

What the hell am I doing here?

But she had to get out of here. Get out of the city, get away from this bad dream. And maybe she’d wake up in a minute and be back to her old miserable life.

She opened her eyes, got out of the car, and walked over to the guys, who cat-called her immediately.

“Take the car,” she told them, and threw the key towards them to catch it. And before anything else could happen, she rushed for the entrance to the subway, running down the stairs .

One minute to go.

Racing to it, her heart began to pound. It was a game with the fire. There was no way in hell Deis could follow her here without drawing too much attention.

Glancing back, she saw no one running behind her.

Good.

And there was the subway. She squeezed in with the closing doors, gasping for air from the running. She was no runner, in general, more the no sports of any kind of person. But she made it. The moment she heard the loud rattling, feeling the subway roll out of the station, relief spread through her.

Immediately, she let down her hair – she hated a bun as it always made her scalp hurt. The whole situation gave her a sensation of being exposed, so she pulled the hood over her head and let herself fall onto a seat at the end of the carriage where she had everything in view.

She observed all the people in there. There was an older woman knitting, two guys watching something on their phone, two women reading the same book and a guy audibly arguing on the phone with what was supposedly his girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend. He didn’t mean to cheat.

What a dumbass.

Taking out her phone, she stared at it.

487,933 notifications on Instagram.

1,891 emails.

Opening the email app, she read one.

‘Disgusting whore’

And another, just to be sure.

‘Wait till I find you!’

It was too much. Fear rose in her to a very uncomfortable level, making her chest clench. Never had she gotten any hate mail ever before. And now? Her mail exploded from people – women – hating her for being with Deis, telling her how ugly she was, internally as much as externally.

In what world do we live, where women are sending hate mail to another woman because I am with a guy they have never even talked to before, let alone know? This is crazy!

Taking a deep breath, she tried to release the anxiety in her, which was on the verge of overwhelming her. And then she opened Instagram.

Almost 400,000 people had followed her by now. There were messages. Thousands upon thousands with more hate in them. And comments. Under all her posts were hundreds of comments. Reading them made her feel like she had a big lump in her throat, she was almost on the edge of crying. Things were completely out of control.

I need control.

And there it was again – the voice in her – that told her she was a worthless piece of shit, unable to get anything done, not even stick to a fucking routine, let alone keep a job or a boyfriend. Or best friend. Or her thoughts.

The only thing she could control was pain.

Consuming her whole, the urge to either hit into something or cut something open greeted her like the old friend it was, with the sweet promise of release.

To not draw attention to her, she pinched herself with her nails hard into her right forearm, where the skin was most sensitive while trying to breathe through the needed release.

Being able to think a bit more clearly, she went back to Instagram.

If I delete the posts, it will not matter, because people make screenshots and there are archives.

I can turn off the comments and the ability to receive messages, that’s something at least.

She was never a social media poster like Julie or Cat, so it took her not even three minutes to turn all the comments off. And although they were gone now, her inner voice repeated what people wrote her.

Never ever would he go for such an ugly one

Manipulator

Typical money-grabber

Slut

Wonder how good she fucks, as she’s not a looker

Shaking herself, she went to read the messages in her main inbox.

Julie

Just saw Deis’ story and your post! What the hell, Em!

You gotta tell me eeeeeverything!

You won’t believe a fucking thing, Julie.

Sienna

You’re famous, Em. Never thought you to be the one who gets a guy like him.

Especially him, after all.

Typical Sienna, she groaned in her mind. E xtraordinarily good at making me feel bad all the time.

And there it was. The message that let her heart sink to the bottom of the floor, immediately pounding ever so hard.

Chris the fucker

Hypocrite bitch you are!

How long have you been fucking him?

No wonder you never wanted sex with me, you’ve been fucking him all the time

Disgusting whore!

Anger and rage infiltrated her and consumed her the moment she read his message.

The daring of him! He fucks Sami the whole time, and now he is making me the villain. Gods, this man is lower than low.

And in her mind, she would love nothing more than to strangle him and throw him into the ocean, visualizing it was quite satisfying. Although his reaction showed everything she needed to see. Him belittling her was a strategy of a crushed ego trying to get the power back. And the thought left her with satisfaction.

She closed the app, unable to stand any more of it. Her battery was low anyway.

Staring outside the window into the darkness, her mind wandered.

Fuck!

My phone. Deis is tracking it! How could I be so stupid!

She immediately turned it off. And while she sat there in the rattling subway, she glanced around, trying to sort her thoughts. The New York City subway was a different universe, where you could become everything and nothing.

And then she saw it. One of the women a few feet away giggled and pointed at her; th e other took out her phone.

Could it be? People recognizing me in the sub?

But when the woman took a photo of her, it needed no further explanation. She had to get out of here. The next station was Times Square. People, many, many people. Exactly what she needed, to blend in with the masses.

The moment the subway came to a halt, she sprinted out of it.

When she reached outside, her glance wandered over the people walking by, a feeling of hiding spread in her. She was so exposed.

Sunglasses.

Slipping into the first souvenir shop, she got herself a ‘I Love NYC’ hooded jacket and the biggest sunglasses she could find with the last money she had. She needed something that did not look like her. So, she just put the hooded jacket over her hoodie and went to the first place possible to get a break and in desperate need of a bathroom – a McDonald’s to her right.

What the hell am I doing?

I feel like a criminal on the run.

I must get home.

Get into the apartment.

Get my stuff and leave.

Maybe I can visit mother’s best friend Annie in Maine and stay with her for a week or two until things calm down a bit, but I won’t run from it.

And then a sensation crawled up on her, like the foreboding of nothing good. She glanced around, but nothing was there. Only other guests, all of them eating or chatting.

But then, why do some of them glance over to me?

Do they recognize me, too? Or is it normal behavior? Why is it that I feel somehow watched?

Maybe I am getting paranoid.

Yes, sure that’s it.

Get home, sleep, and afterwards, it will be a new day .

And with that, she stood up, glanced briefly behind her and went for the door.

“Oh my god!” she heard an excited voice her, making her stop in her tracks.

“You’re Emma, the girl fucking Deis!”

She just stood there, frozen to the spot, while her mind was empty.

How could it travel so fast?

How do people even recognize me? From the photo with Deis? Or those few photos she had posted months and years ago on Instagram?

“I’m sorry,” she said, forcing her voice to appear calm and friendly while in her a storm raged. “You must confuse me with someone else, my name is Annie.” It was the first name that came to her mind. She fake smiled and left, putting her sunglasses back on. Now no one would recognize her like this.

Forcing herself to make normal steps until she was around the corner, she then ran. Nothing mattered right now. She had to get into her home, get her stuff, and leave.

It wasn’t far to her home, and when she turned the corner for 45 th St. all of her froze. About two dozen paparazzi stood around the entrance of her building again, there was no way she could enter unseen.

“There!” shouted one of the men, running towards her, his camera fully on her.

Fuck.

And then she turned around and ran. The men behind her, hunting her with their cameras.

She ran back to 9th Avenue, her heart pounding up to her throat. She had nowhere to go anymore. They hunted her. Like she was prey. All in her felt like breaking down in tears right where she was, so she turned around the corner, and without further thought, she jumped over a fence down to an entrance to a building. It was a lot higher than she had expected, and her joints and ankles burned from the pain of landing on the hard stone. Crouching down in the corner, she just hoped they would not see her. Down here, everything smelled like a pisshole .

And while she waited for the waves of fear to pass, she heard one of the men shout.

“The bitch is fast!”

The very moment tears started to flood down her cheeks, she held her hands in front of her mouth to silence the sobs coming with them, while all she wanted to do was cry out loud.

I am not going to make it. Not without money. Not without backup.

She fumbled out her phone and turned it on.

But who could she call?

Who could help her?

Julie. Julie knows how to build reputations.

The phone rang.

Not answering. Why is she not answering? She is always on her phone, always.

Cat.

Straight to voicemail.

There’s no one. I’m all by myself.

Her phone vibrated.

Deis

Just ask

The fuck I will. It’s exactly what you want me to do.

Breathe. Think.

Carl’s phone.

Opening her bag, she fumbled it out. It was a burner, and as she opened it, there was only a single number dialed on it.

Just do it. What do you have to lose?

And she pressed the button.

The phone rang, and she heard a phone ring above her.

Please let this be a coincidence. Please. It’s got to be.

But when the voice above her answered, a shudder so cold, so shattering it ran down her spine and goosebumps spread over all her body.

“Carl, did you get her? ”

Her heart almost sank out of her body.

Fucking fuck.