Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

I couldn’t help but laugh despite myself as he managed to tickle my funny bone. “Alright, hold tight. I’m off to run you a bath.”

He nodded obediently, but as I turned away, I noticed a shadow pass over his face, his expression darkening.

When I came back to tell him the tub was ready, I could have sworn I saw him fiddling with my phone.

“Phoebe, my hand really hurts.”

Just as I was about to grab my phone, he winced, claiming his hand was in pain. Sure enough, the white bandage was soaked through with blood.

I quickly fetched the first aid kit, redressed his wound, and coaxed him into the bath, drying his

hair afterward.

He was as docile as a golden retriever, quietly letting me take care of him.

By the time I’d put His Highness to bed, I was dead on my feet.

He gave me a wry smile and pulled me into his embrace. “Phoebe… time for sleep.”

I was reluctant, sensing some kind of scheme in the air. But exhaustion overcame suspicion, and as soon as I lay down in his arms, sleepiness washed over me.

His room always had this subtle scent of sandalwood, comforting and perfect for a peaceful sleep.

And I drifted off.

There was no need to check on Melody and Dexter since they were just playing their games; I had already alerted the cops.

Robin was on his way, and he’d be much more useful than me. If it was all an act, Robin would give them a piece of his mind.

But if it wasn’t… with Robin there, hopefully, the perpetrator would be caught.

That night, I dreamed Dexter stood before me, drenched in blood, smiling. “Phoebe, I’ve come to join you.”

I recoiled in disgust, but he kept advancing.

“Phoebe… I’m sorry; how about I join you and the kid in the afterlife?”

I shouted back at him, “No! Stay away! You’ll taint my path to reincarnation.”

His eyes brimming with tears, he said, “Phoebe, I’m sorry, I never knew how to love anyone else. I just wanted you to fall for me…”

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“Get lost!” I screamed.

In my struggle, I must have kicked something hard.

My eyes snapped open, my breath quick, sweat beading on my forehead.

As I came to, the daylight was already spilling into the room.

Turning around, I saw Colin sitting on the floor, his fluffy head peeking out, eyes looking at me. innocently.

“I…” What did I do to him?

“Phoebe… you kicked me.” Colin’s voice was laced with injury as he climbed onto the bed, taking my hand. “Rub it, it hurts.”

Apparently, I had kicked him really hard. He was only wearing boxer shorts and placed my hand near his groin.

I blushed furiously. What was he playing at this early in the morning?

“Phoebe… it’s swollen.” He looked at me with puppy–dog eyes, implying my kick had left a mark.

Sometimes, I really felt like calling the cops on him. Was he playing dumb or truly clueless?

“You…” I warned him with a pointed finger to cut the act, but he just playfully bit my finger.

I couldn’t be bothered with him and wanted to check my phone.

“Phoebe… I’m starving.” And with that, he pinned me down and kissed me.

I suspected he was deliberately stalling me from checking my phone, but I had no proof. Every time he’d pout, what could I do?

“Phoebe…” He always liked to call my name in moments of passion.

The sunlight was warm, filtering through the sheer curtains into the room.

Everything felt like a dream, yet the flush in my cheeks and the heat coursing through my veins kept me acutely aware.

I must be going mad.

The phone buzzed incessantly, and I reached out, pushing Colin away with disdain.

When did I put it on silent?

The caller was an unknown number.

“Where are you? It’s Stella. Why aren’t you answering mine or Robin’s calls? Dexter’s in trouble!”