He followed Cassie for weeks. He soon discovered her secret life. She had men coming on to her like flies buzzing around rotten food. Cassie didn’t look the part of the w***e, and he had been surprised to find out that she was. He’d spent months learning her routine, watching her go home with unknown men, night after night. The only break in her routine—the mens’ faces.
What he could see, and none of those men could understand, was the sadness in Cassie. She hated herself for what she did. And she drank to soothe her guilt. And that made her vulnerable. To him.
He found her intensely interesting, and his own s****l awareness had increased the more he imagined what she was doing in all those different places with all those different men.
It had been easy to observe her, follow her, and i
