*Chapter 9: The Flash Drive*

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I stayed in the car for about 10 to 15 minutes before finally turning the key in the ignition.

By the time I got home, my stomach was churning. That weird, creeping feeling had returned—tightening around my chest like a warning. I couldn't stop thinking about the flash drive. What could possibly be on it?

All my life, I thought I knew Josh. Every inch of him. Every layer.

But ever since that day… I haven't been the same.

The day he decided to show me who he *really* was—his true form.

His inner beast.

It still haunted me—his voice, the coldness in it, the way he didn't even blink when everything around us was falling apart.

I rushed into the house as soon as I parked, slamming the door shut behind me and dashing up to my room. I locked the door.

I don't even know why.

Maybe part of me felt something was already watching.

Or maybe I just needed the illusion of safety for what I was about to do.

I pulled out the flash drive.

I stared at it for a moment, its cheap plastic casing warm from my grip. Whoever left it knew where I was. Knew *who* I was.

That alone made my skin crawl.

I grabbed my laptop, flipped it open, and powered it on. My heartbeat pounded in my ears—faster than it had any right to.

The flash drive loaded instantly.

No name. No folder. No password. Nothing flashy.

Just a single file:

*"03-14-25_CAM17.mp4"*

I hesitated.

Then hit play.

The video opened to black-and-white security footage—inside what looked like a warehouse. The timestamp was from just two weeks ago.

A week after our breakup.

Josh walked into the frame.

My breath caught.

He looked… calm.

Focused.

That cold intelligence in his eyes—it wasn't unfamiliar, but I had always mistaken it for control. Strength. Even kindness.

Not this.

Two men stood facing him. One paced nervously, rubbing his hands together. The other stood still, stiff with fear disguised as defiance.

There was no sound, but the tension bled through the screen like smoke.

The nervous one stepped forward, shouting something. Josh didn't flinch.

He didn't speak.

And then—just like that—he moved.

He reached into his coat.

A flash.

A scuffle.

The nervous man hit the floor. Hard.

The second man turned to run. Josh stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him into a concrete pillar with such force it made me flinch.

One second.

Two.

Then he let go.

The man crumpled. Motionless.

I slammed the space bar. Paused the video.

Josh looked up—right into the camera.

Like he *knew* it was watching.

Like he wanted someone—maybe *me*—to see this.

The screen went black.

I sat frozen.

Hands cold.

Bones colder.

Josh didn't just kill someone.

He killed *two*.

Efficiently. Calmly. Without hesitation.

Like it was just… routine.

And the scariest part?

He walked away like nothing had happened.

Like it didn't cost him anything. Not his soul. Not his sleep. Nothing.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Josh:

*"I've got a bad feeling. Are you safe?"*

I didn't reply.

Because in that moment, I didn't know who the real danger was anymore:

The man I used to love...

Or the people warning me about him.

And maybe the question wasn't *what* Josh was hiding.

But *why* someone wanted me to find out now.

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