Chapter 7
Itry to fight, try to dig my heels in, but he’s too strong.
“Stop fighting,” the distorted voice whispers near my ear. “You’re doing well keeping quiet. Continue to obey me.”
“Let me go—”
The hand tightens slightly on my arm. “Unless you want me to finish off all these bastards from the hockey team.” The words are laced with venom. “Is that what you want?”
I freeze. The way he said it—the pure hatred in those words—sends ice through my veins.
At first, I was certain this was Zane. The gait, the build, something in the way they moved.
Even through the voice distortion, there were moments where the intonation reminded me of him.
But Zane would never say something like that.
He’s the captain of the hockey team, goddammit.
He wouldn’t threaten them with such vicious hatred.
Which means this isn’t Zane.
And that realization is somehow worse than anything else.
Because deep down—in some foolish, pathetic corner of my mind—I’d been hoping it was him. Had wanted it to be him, despite how twisted that is. At least with Zane, I knew what I was dealing with. At least there was some connection, some thread of understanding between us.
But this? This is a stranger. A dangerous stranger who’s been watching me for weeks.
We reach a large oak tree at the edge of the park, and the figure spins me around, pressing my back against the trunk. He places his hands on either side of my head, caging me in. The mask stares down at me, those eye holes revealing nothing.
“What do you want from me?” I force the words out, trying to sound braver than I feel.
“Oh, so much aggression.” There’s amusement in the distorted voice. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll punish you for that?”
“You’re stalking me. Threatening me. Breaking into my apartment.” My voice shakes with anger now. “That means you want something from me. So just tell me what it is.”
The figure leans in closer, and I can hear breathing through the mask—steady, controlled. “To see your reactions. To watch your emotions. That alone is fucking incredible.” A pause. “But I think you know what I want.”
“I have no idea.”
It’s true. I don’t. What could someone possibly want from me that would justify all of this?
I can’t control myself. The fear, the anger, the confusion—it all boils over and I shove against his chest, trying to break free. It’s useless, I know it’s useless, but I can’t just stand here and—
He grabs my wrists, pinning them back against the tree on either side of my head. The movement is swift, efficient, and now I’m completely trapped.
“Shh, sweetie.” The voice is almost gentle, which makes it worse. “I love it when you resist, but tonight you’re not moving an inch from me.”
My mind is spinning. The build, the strength, the way they move—it all screams Zane. But the voice is wrong, and those words about the hockey team were wrong, and I don’t know what to think anymore.
Should I just ask? Should I say his name?
But what if I’m wrong? What if this stranger tells Zane about it later, and they both laugh at how pathetic I am? How I was hoping my stalker was him?
God, I’m so pathetic and ridiculous.
I might not get out of this situation unscathed. I need to focus on survival, not on figuring out identities.
“W-why?” I manage. “Why tonight? Why this party?”
“Because I told you not to come here.” The figure’s voice is harder now. “You don’t belong here. You have no idea what’s going to happen here.”
“And you do?” I challenge. “How do you know what’s going to happen?”
“Aah-aah-aah.” He releases one of my wrists to press a finger against my lips through the mask. “Quiet. Otherwise I’ll have to cover your mouth again. Though I do love hearing all your cute little lines.” A pause. “Do you want my hand over your mouth?”
“No!” The word comes out too vehement, and I immediately push against his chest with my free hand. It’s a stupid move, and I know it, but I can’t help myself.
The figure lets out a dark chuckle, and I can hear the satisfaction in it. “I said quiet.”
I shift my weight, trying to get better leverage, but the movement causes my leg to brush against him. I freeze.
The figure inhales sharply through their nose, the sound loud even through the mask. He starts to say something, but then his head jerks to the side, like he’s heard something I can’t.
“What—” I start, but he holds up a hand, listening intently.
In the distance, I can hear shouting. Running footsteps. Something that sounds like fighting.
The figure’s entire demeanor changes, going from focused on me to alert, almost protective. He turns back to me, and even through the mask I can sense the intensity of his gaze.
“You’re going to behave perfectly and quietly now,” he says, and the distortion can’t hide the command in his voice. “We’re moving to another location. Not a sound. Do you understand?”
“You can’t seriously expect me to listen to someone who just grabbed me and threatened me.” I’m trying to sound brave, but my voice wavers. “Tell me what you want from me. Tell me what’s happening here.”
“Easton.” They say my name like a warning, and despite everything, it sends a shiver through me. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me—”
The figure moves quickly, positioning themselves behind me. One arm wraps around my waist, the other comes up near my face—not covering my mouth, but close enough to threaten it.
“Don’t want to do this the easy way?” The voice is low, dangerous. “Fine. We’ll do it my way.”
He starts moving, pulling me along with him, and I have no choice but to stumble along.