Chapter 3
Chapter three
Winona Bishop
Follow You — Bring Me The Horizon
I fasten the straps of my backpack over my shoulders while I reread the note on the kitchen island.
Killing is part of the game.
I don’t know if someone is trying to tell me something or scare me, but I don’t get scared easily, and I’m determined to uncover what their games are all about.
Sliding my eyes to my phone screen, I watch as 9:37 pm becomes 9:38 pm before the news reporter snaps me out of it.
“Breaking news in Salem, Massachusetts. The Halloween Killers have mysteriously vanished this year. This group of masked killers has terrorized the city and murdered victims on Halloween night for nearly two decades. The local chief of police has repeatedly stated that they believe there are seven killers. Are they changing their tactics? Are they done killing? Are they relocating somewhere else? Right now, we don’t have all the answers.
They are classified as an incredible danger to the public.
Authorities are doing everything they can to catch these killers and bring them to justice.
But is it enough? We’ll have to wait and see. ”
The tight squeeze in my chest says otherwise. It’s never enough when your nightmares become you.
I grab the note on my way to the gas stove and let it burn. The flames curl the paper into ashes. I ball my hand into a fist at my side to suppress a wince and shove it into the pocket of my black cargo pants, grazing my fingers over my pocket knife.
I was twelve years old when a man was slaughtered in front of me on Halloween night by a masked man.
In a pool of blood, his severed body lay, and the flames started scorching the nothingness he had become.
That fatal night marked the precipice of a new dawn, heralding a bloodbath on the horizon.
Torture and fire were always the killers’ play. My husband suffered the same fate.
Somehow, occasionally, his sandalwood cologne still envelops me. I pull out the knife and stab the air around me before glancing over my shoulder at the photo on the fridge—his face is like a ghost that still haunts me.
I jump in place at the sound of a loud bang, followed by a cat’s high-pitched scream. A cold chill runs up my spine. I rush to turn off the TV and peek through the gap in the curtains, waiting to see someone, but instead, Muffin, the stray cat who always camps outside my house, crosses over.
I let out a sigh of relief and pocket the knife.
Rule number 1: Always stay alert.
Rule number 2: Never be predictable.
Rule number 3: If you’re in danger, don’t hesitate.
Rule number 4: Your husband is gone, so don’t search for him.
Muffin rubs her body against my leg and purrs as I shut the house door behind me.
“Winona, watch your six.”
A small smile tugs at my lips when that sweet memory crosses my mind. I never had to do that while he stared at my ass all day.
The silent streets buzz with bittersweet memories, and a cold breeze brushes against my cheeks, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I pull my hood up and cross the street. This neighborhood is where it all began and where I lost everything.
This seemingly tight-knit community of wealthy neighbors is gated and enforces a strict policy due to everything that transpired with the Halloween Killers. No one is allowed in without identification, and guards patrol 24/7.
Truthfully, Grandma owns all the houses. She customized a safety, dome-like reality for me, just like she always does.
I walk past the guards who hold the door open as soon as they see me. Here, everything is under control; yet outside this electric gate, the chaos begins.
I’ve always preferred going there instead of being stuck at home.
“Stop following me around. I can hear you breathing down my neck even from six feet apart.” I halt abruptly in the middle of the crosswalk, and my annoying bodyguard bumps into me.
“It’s my job, Winona. Just go to your party already.” The irritation in his husky voice is priceless, and paired with the eye roll he’s giving me, I chuckle.
“Someone’s in a mood.” I quirk an eyebrow and turn around.
He grunts.
“Come on, you love those parties and the way people stare at me,” I tease, eyeing him up and down, taking in his mesmerizing appearance. His ripped jeans fit him perfectly, paired with a black t-shirt, a leather jacket, and combat boots.
“They can stare because you’re coming home with me when the night ends.” He points forward. “Now, less talking, more walking. Unless you need me to carry your sweet ass there.”
“I knew you stared at my ass this whole time.” I press my hands to my hips and cock my head to the side. A ghost of a smile hovers across his lips, but it soon disappears when my eyebrow rises. My smirk automatically fades as I meet his steel gaze. I wrinkle my nose. “Mood killer.”
A jeep swerves around the corner, piercing my eardrums as its tires screech just an arm’s length from me.
“Watch out, asshole!” I smack the hood and point to the right. “There’s a stop sign.”
“It’s not like death is so uncommon around here. I might be doing you a favor.” That prick of a driver yells back at me, pushing his head out of the window and signaling me to cross over.
“Yeah, babe, don’t assume it was our fault you ran between our headlights like a little deer.” Another guy adds from the passenger seat.
Is strangling a college kid considered a crime if I’m trying to teach him a lesson? I’m doing society a favor.
“You better not piss someone off on Halloween night. You know, too many incidents, a lot of fake blood and skeletons. Today is not the day to fuck around and find out.” I wink and pat the warm hood, but I perk my ears when a low laugh drifts from the street.
I stride forward, my eyes searching between distant trees.
There’s no one out there that I can see.
Yet.
“Whatever you say,” the driver mutters.
“Come on, let’s go already!” the girl in the back exclaims. “See you at the party.” She pops her bubble gum and waves at me as I glance at her over my shoulder.
Crumpled leaves crunch under my boot as I reach the curb beneath the flickering streetlight. The tires of the jeep screech again as they race toward the party at the end of the street, and a black SUV with tinted windows follows closely behind.
“See, you have a death wish.” My bodyguard claims as I kick and land my fist against the hard lines of his back repeatedly.
He takes his sweet time lowering me against his toned body—its sharp cuts and tight muscles—before my shoe hits the ground.
I skim my teeth over my bottom lip. I know he works like a maniac in our house gym, but damn.
“If I’m bound to save you ninety-nine times a day, this job will be much more interesting than I thought. ”
“That car stopped in time.” I wriggle out of his hold and push him away from me. “You don’t have to throw me over your shoulder whenever I’m in danger.”
Inching closer, his body heat cloaks me again, his face hovering over mine as I lift my chin in defiance and narrow my eyes at him.
“I will do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.” He grits out with fire in his eyes, pulling me in like a moth to a flame.
“If that wasn’t clear a year ago, I don’t play games.
Your safety is my priority. Your body is mine to shelter.
You. Are. Mine.” His minty breath reaches my parted lips, and I inhale it. Him.
My heart surges wildly in my chest. This feeling is unlike anything I have experienced before.
“No,” I reply with fierce determination.
Waves of electricity surge between us, and my skin prickles with goosebumps.
He remains expressionless, probably planning to get back at me for being a brat.
“You just try to touch me every chance you get. You think you affect me, but you don’t. ” It’s a complete lie, and he knows it.
A slight curl pulls at the corner of his lip.
“So, I don’t get you wet?” He lowers his voice to a whisper.
I fight the urge to bite my bottom lip. Instead, I sink my teeth into my tongue hard.
“Like the other day when you had a wet stain on your leggings and I had to walk behind you so no one would see.”
I curve my eyebrows in question because I have no idea what he’s talking about, but the incriminating gleam in his eyes tells me he doesn’t bullshit me.
Blush creeps up my cheeks, so I fire the only thing that comes to mind, “The only wet thing is the sweat on my skin when I dance nonstop while you’re watching, enjoy the show.
But you can do something for me if you’re sooo worried about my safety. Teach me how to protect myself.”
Narrowing his ice-blue eyes a fraction, he maps my soft features, memorizing each. “We’ll start tomorrow, so don’t get a hangover.”
“Ah, you—” I point and smack my finger down against my thigh at once. I don’t even like to get drunk anyway. “Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, watching the joy pour out of his stupidly handsome face.
“You’re not even twenty-one. Don’t get worked up about it.”
“I’m at legal drinking age somewhere in the world.” I bite back.
Eyes blazing, he intentionally slams his front against mine, tilting my chin up with his forefinger and thumb. “I promise to buy you a drink when you get there.”
“What makes you think you will still be my bodyguard two years from now?” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for the next jab.
I find it charming that he takes his job seriously, but that talk-back brat in me just can’t let him have it his way.
“I’m not going anywhere, so we’ll have to wait and see,” he whispers, almost brushing our lips together.
He’s just turned twenty-one himself. He’s the youngest, most inexperienced bodyguard I’ve ever had, but my grandma trusts him more than anyone.
“Just blend,” I say casually, finishing the conversation.
“Enjoy the party.” His gaze shifts to my maroon-colored lips and then back to my aquamarine eyes as he slowly steps away.