Yes, Masters (Book 2 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 1 - Emma

"What do you mean you can't help me?" I stared at officer Miller in disbelief. As soon as I'd gotten the pictures, which were currently on the table between us, I'd hailed a taxi and gotten down to the police station.

"I'm not saying we can't help you if this is a real threat. I am saying that we get stuff like this all the time, and majority of them turn out to be pranks," the man in front of me explained in an almost patronizing tone. "The thing is, we have to use our recourses for important matters, and—"

"Are you saying this isn't important?" I gaped. "I've just found out that someone has been following me and taking pictures of me and my me–friends. These pictures were taken several hours apart, which means someone waited for me for hours. That's not normal behavior from anyone."

The guys sighed. "I understand your frustration, but we can't do anything about it now. As I said, this could just be a cruel prank; trust me, they happen much more often than stalking does. I suggest you go about your life and ignore it. The person that's doing this wants attention from you, or at the very least a reaction. Don't give it to them, and they might get bored."

Cruel prank.

Fucking ignore it?

Might get bored.

I'd never been as taken aback as I was now, hearing this police officer minimizing my fright. Sure, he could be right, this could be just a prank, but it didn't feel like that. Nobody waited hours for me to make my moves so they could follow me, only to prank me. That didn't add up.

This was the first time I'd ever had to contact the police, and now I almost regretted it. I'd gotten no support whatsoever from them. The only 'advice' I'd gotten was to ignore it and go about my day as usual as if I hadn't had someone follow me for two days, take pictures of the guys and me, print said photos, scratch out the faces of the men and then send them to me with freaky notes at the back. All of that just so they could get a couple of laughs in? Yeah, that sounded unlikely. But then again, having a stalker—or whatever the hell that person was—sounded just as unlikely because why would someone stalk me? I was just me, nobody special.

"Thank you for coming in. If your situation escalates, don't hesitate to contact us again." Officer collected the pictures I'd shown him and promptly stuffed them back inside the brown manila envelope they'd been sent in before handing it back to me.

All I could do was stare as I accepted the envelope. And when he gestured for me to leave...I walked, dumbfounded and quietly. My mind was screaming as I left the station, but I didn't utter a word.

That's what I get for going to the police, zilch, nada, nothing. So much for helping me feel safe. Thank you, officer Miller, thank you for absolutely shit.

As I got outside, the sun hung high in the sky, but that didn't make me feel any better. Whoever sent me these photos clearly showed that they didn't hide in the dark of the night.

I shuddered as I looked around to see if anyone stood out; no one did. That didn't calm my nerves either. I worried at my lower lip as I scanned the streets. The noise of the city did little to drown out the noise in my head. Maybe only silence could suffocate the thoughts that plagued me.

What can I do now? What is there to do? I wondered, not quite ready to walk away from the safety of the precinct until I knew where I was going.

The words from the pictures circled in the back of my mind, ever-present, as they'd been since I had read them.

They don't deserve you.

I don't share.

It would be a shame to see them get hurt...It would be a shame to see them get hurt...It would be a shame to see them get hurt...