Possessive Girlfriend

The café smelled of espresso and garlic bread. Sera sat in the corner booth, pale fingers wrapped around a ceramic cup, her coffee black and bitter. The spaghetti on her plate remained untouched; she had specifically ordered it without garlic, and the kitchen had complied, though not without suspicious glances.

“I heard you recently got a boyfriend,” Karen said, her blonde curls bouncing. “That surprised me. A NEET with a scam-baiting hobby like you finally got a boyfriend.”

Sera’s blue eyes flickered up from her cup. “He tried to scam me before.”

“Wait, what?” Ida nearly choked on her latte.

“He was desperate for money back then.” Sera’s voice carried a casual tone. “In the end, we reached a mutual agreement and started dating.”

Ida set down her cup. “I met your boyfriend, Angelo, today at his parents’ pizza parlor. Nice guy. Good smile.”

“Do you mean that tan-skinned Angelo Romano?” Karen straightened in her seat. “On my way here, I saw him at the beach with a woman. Like, twenty minutes ago. Beautiful woman. Expensive clothes.”

The air temperature around their table seemed to drop several degrees.

Sera stood up. She dropped a bill onto the table, far more than enough to cover the untouched food.

“Keep the change as a tip.”

She was out the door before either of her friends could respond.

***

The beach at night held a different kind of beauty. The crowds had thinned to scattered couples and solitary walkers, the boardwalk lights casting golden reflections across the dark water. The seaside establishment Angelo had chosen was upscale.

Sera spotted him immediately.

He sat at a table near the railing, his familiar messy dark hair catching the breeze. Across from him sat a woman who practically radiated wealth. Designer dress. Pearl earrings. The kind of posture that came from years of boarding schools.

Angelo was laughing at something she had said. He held a glass of something amber, probably whiskey or oolong tea. He looked comfortable and happy.

Sera’s jaw tightened.

The woman, Victoria, noticed her first. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the ghostly figure approaching across the sand.

“Is that your girlfriend?” she asked Angelo, nodding toward Sera.

Angelo turned. His expression cycled through several emotions in rapid succession: recognition, surprise, and finally something that looked like resignation.

“Unfortunately.”

Sera’s blue eyes shifted to a burning crimson, glowing like embers in the dark. The Victoria’s hand tightened on her wine glass.

“Is she... human?” she stammered.

Angelo hesitated. “Technically.”

Victoria was already standing, reaching for her purse. “I think I should go.”

What followed was, in Angelo’s opinion, an entirely disproportionate response to what was essentially a business meeting.

Angelo ran toward his motorcycle with Victoria right on his heels. He kicked the engine to life as she scrambled onto the back seat.

“Go, go, go!” she shouted.

Angelo went.

Behind them, Sera began to run. Her feet barely touched the ground, each step propelling her forward at an extraordinary speed. Her eyes were twin beacons of supernatural fury.

“She’s gaining on us!” Victoria shouted, looking back.

“Yeah.” Angelo’s voice was remarkably calm.

“She’s running faster than a motorcycle!”

“She’s having a difficult evening.”

Sera closed the gap. She swung a metal bat; it whistled through the dark before missing the bike and slamming straight into the pavement. The concrete shattered, spraying jagged fragments outward in a deadly burst. Victoria screamed.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “Oh my god, she’s not human. What is happening?”

The motorcycle’s engine sputtered. Coughed. Died.

Angelo cursed under his breath. He had been meaning to get that checked.

“Split up!” he shouted.

Victoria did not need to be told twice. She was off the bike and running, heels abandoned, barefoot on the sand, heading toward the lights of a hotel in the distance.

Angelo ran the other way, toward the darker part of town.

The alley was narrow and reeked of fish and old garbage. Angelo pressed himself against the brick wall, chest heaving, listening.

Silence shrouded the dark alley, hinting at either safety or a trap.

He had lost her. Somehow, against all odds and physics, he had actually lost her. He allowed himself a small smile of triumph.

Something hit the back of his head.

***

The warehouse was abandoned, technically. The lights worked, the floor was swept, and someone had recently installed a heavy-duty locking mechanism on the door.

Angelo woke to a throbbing head and ropes binding his arms tightly to a metal chair.

Across the small folding table sat Sera, legs crossed, her face a mask of cold detachment. On the table between them stood a single desk lamp, its light angled directly into Angelo’s face.

He had to admit, the setup was impressive.

“Who is the woman?” Sera asked.

“Her name is Victoria Ashworth.”

“I didn’t ask for her name.”

“She’s an investor.” Angelo’s voice was hoarse. “From Manhattan. Her late husband’s family owns half the hotels on the eastern seaboard. And I was pitching her an investment opportunity.”

Sera’s crimson eyes studied him. She had not blinked in several minutes. “What kind of opportunity?”

“There’s this island. In the Bahamas. Outer island. My friend Marco, you remember Marco, he’s building a resort there. Boutique operation. Eco-friendly. He needed investors, and Victoria’s been looking to diversify her portfolio into hospitality.”

“The Bahamas,” Sera repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

“You were drinking with a beautiful woman on a beach at night.”

“I was drinking with a potential investor at a beachside establishment. There’s a difference.”

Sera’s fingers drummed against her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you. Last week. I said I had a meeting on Thursday.”

“You said you had a thing.”

“A meeting is a thing!”

The desk lamp flickered. Sera stood up slowly, her fluid movements making Angelo’s instincts scream at him to back away. She circled the table.

“You could have just told me,” she whispered.

“You were carrying a baseball bat.”

“It’s a metal bat.”

“That’s not better. That’s worse. That’s significantly worse.”

Angelo sighed, letting his head fall back against the chair. The ropes creaked.

“Look,” he said. “I know this looks bad. I know. But I am not cheating on you. I would never cheat on you. You’re terrifying. You’re literally the most terrifying person I’ve ever met, and I grew up around New Jersey mobsters. Why would I ever...”

Sera’s phone rang.

The sound was jarring in the vast warehouse. Sera froze mid-step. She pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen.

The crimson glow in her eyes flickered and dimmed. Something else surfaced on her face, something Angelo had rarely seen there. Worry. Fear.

“What is it?” he asked.

Sera stared at the screen. The caller ID was a simple one word.

Family.

She stood still while the phone kept ringing.

“Sera?”

The phone went silent. A moment later, it rang again. Sera finally answered.

“Hello.”

She listened; her expression stiffened. She hung up without another word.

Angelo waited. “Bad news?”

Sera looked at him. “Family.”

“How bad?”

She glanced toward the warehouse doors, then back at him. “I don’t know yet.”

She moved behind his chair, her fingers working at the knots quickly and efficiently. She finished with the ropes and stepped back. Angelo rubbed his wrists, looking at her. He saw genuine fear in her eyes, an expression he remembered seeing years ago when they were children and she would show up with bruises on her arms. Back then, her answer had always been the same: family problems.

“Should I come with you?” Angelo asked.

Sera shook her head. “No.” She picked up her phone and walked toward the exit.

“Sera,” Angelo called out.

She stopped. “Yes?”

“If you need help, you can call me.”

“I know.” She opened the heavy door, letting the cold sea air sweep into the warehouse.