Emotions hanging from a slippery tight wire covered with excitement and sorrow, I pull open my dresser drawer, plucking out a replica of the notebook I’ve kept since the day my parents died. Everything’s there. Every good, bad, and scared day I lived through copied onto the once blank pages. Every confused, frightened minute I wished away into the whisper of the darkened moment. Every second of questioning and requestioning my parents’ love for me while feeling the absence of it from those who were . . . caring for me. Thoughts stained in black ink, every thought I’ve had over the last decade resides in this notebook, this offering of my complete truth to the man I know will hold it in his hands, taking care of it the way it needs to be . . . the way he always has. The first page, my letter to him. The reasons why I chose him, why I can’t take another step forward without his love guiding me.
Still, I can barely think straight, my memory twisting with the sound of Brock and Ryder’s worried voices when I’d called them to let them know I’d made a decision, that tonight was the night I’d be leaving the diner with one of them. Time and place set, this is it. I’m about to wreak havoc on one of their lives, leaving him to pick up the pieces of the carnage I’ve left behind.
With everything in place, I glimpse my reflection in the mirror, sickened by the girl who’s staring back at me as I slip on my coat and scarf. Who does this to someone, plays their heart like a game of chess? I do, that’s who. A black widow in the flesh, I’m about to eat a man alive, killing off every dream he had for us. On the verge of not going through with it, coming close to choosing neither guy so as to save all of our hearts from splitting in two, I take a calming breath.
The man I love and need is here with me in spirit, his face consuming my thoughts as I grab my keys off my desk and head out of my dorm room.
As I make my way down the stairwell and out into the icy hold of Old Man Winter’s arms, to my surprise, there’s no one waiting for me to flee campus, not a single Brock- or Ryder-imposed bodyguard awaiting my escape. Considering Brock insisted on picking me up to drive me to the diner, where we’ll meet Ryder for this . . . this final good-bye of sorts, I guess the lack of a lookout shouldn’t come as a surprise. For reasons that still remain a mystery to me, it looks like they didn’t place anyone here because they figured they wouldn’t need to. Brock will be here in fifteen minutes.
I shoot him a text, letting him know to go on ahead to the diner without me. I’m driving myself there. I shut off my cell, not wanting to see the texts that he and Ryder will undoubtedly send, warning me not to step foot out of my dorm without one of them here.
Satchel flung over my shoulder and notebook tucked under my arm, I fumble for my keys halfway across the parking lot. Fingers half frozen, my key chain slips from my grasp, landing with a hush in the recently dropped snow. Before I can reach for them, a swastika-tattooed hand crosses my vision, lifting them for me.
“Let me get those for ya, darlin’,” he offers in a raspy drawl, its dark tone raising the hairs on my neck.
His voice reminds me of a predator’s. A viper coiled, ready to strike.
With my keys in his possession, he rises, a crooked grin scarring his face.
A half-skeleton-tattooed face.
Death’s mask.
“Sorry I startled ya, but you seemed . . . faraway.” Grin unwavering, he dangles my keys from his index finger. “So you want these or not?”
“I—I do. Thank you.” My words are spoken through a halting whisper, the faux smile tightening my lips betraying my surprise and sudden fear as I tentatively reach toward his upturned palm.
I gasp as his hand swallows mine, my keys stabbing into my skin with the tightening of his grip. Before I can produce another thought, he yanks me into his chest, his nose buried in my hair as he sniffs at the snow-dampened strands. All of my words come undone, my fight-or-flight instinct pumping its juices through my veins as a voice from within screams for me to run. Frozen, my limbs don’t receive the urgent message, my entire body an icicle stuck to the pavement as he slowly backs away.
Eyes as dark as crow’s wings, a smirk etches his mouth, the towering set of his body leaning against my driver’s-side door, blocking me from getting in my car as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t help myself.” A pause, the intent in his deadly stare showing nothing but harm. “I’ve spent the last several weeks wondering what you . . . smelled like, what Brock gets to wake up to every morning.”
It hits me all at once. He’s the reason my boyfriend’s begged me not to make a move off campus without telling him beforehand.
The reason Ryder and Brock have kept someone watching after me the last few weeks.
The reason I may never see either of their beautiful faces again after tonight.
Here to take my life, camouflaged before me, the Grim Reaper’s eyes never leave mine as he scratches at the stubble along his jaw. “You are Amber Moretti, correct? The cunt who’s been fucking Brock? The cunt I’ve been dying to get my hands on?”
I don’t respond. Instead, my gaze instinctively drops to a quarter-sized blot of blood staining his camel-hued bomber jacket, its cuff gleaming ruby red with the fresh stain as everything starts to click into place. Not only is he here to take my life, but he’s already taken my lookout’s. My attention shoots out into the parking lot, my breathing picking up as I scour my surroundings. Nothing. Not a single soul’s here with us, finals and the wintry mix keeping most students in for the night.