Chapter 39—
Em
M y nerves have been on edge all day. I hardly slept, and work is rough as I replay the news footage over and over in my head. I can’t believe it. All of Ash’s warnings… Does he know that Vince is dead? Does he suspect Mason?
I didn’t text Ash, and he hasn’t reached out again. He accepted my final word.
“You alright, Emily?” Laura asks, fists digging into her waist when I come up to the counter to place an order. Her lightly grayed brown hair is pulled back into a loose bun as usual. “You’ve been looking out of sorts all night. You’re not coming down with something, are you?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I assure her, a subtle curve to my lips for her concern.
I wipe a hand down my thigh, Laura’s scrutinizing gaze still needling my back when I turn around. Her gut feeling is never wrong. She’s too good at reading people.
I steel my spine and continue my shift, my eyes scanning the street through the large window sporadically where puddles are forming over the asphalt. The drizzle has been going for hours, and yet I chose to come to work on foot.
The weather is not the reason I can’t stop checking the window, though. My skin prickles with dread. There’s no black motorcycle parked across the diner, but I doubt a little rain will keep Mason at bay.
“Did you bring your car?”
“No,” I sigh, putting my apron on the hook in the kitchen before facing the expression behind the motherly tone.
Laura nods toward a tall wicker basket near the door. “Take one of our umbrellas when you leave. The rain has picked up, and it’s likely to get worse before it stops. Weatherman says we’re expecting quite the storm,” she supplies, hiking her thumb at Drew’s TV in the back.
I thank her and do as she suggests, but it’s of little use in this storm. I clutch the handle tighter and cower under the umbrella’s shield. Wind whips around me, blowing my hair with wicked fury. I’m freezing.
Stripping my soaked clothes, I step into the shower, turning it as high as the water heater allows me. It’s not hot by any means. It’s just enough to make me more comfortable.
I dry off, brush my teeth, and change into my sleep clothes before returning to my room.
Thunder rolls in the distance as my wary gaze lingers on the window. I double-check the lock before slipping under the covers.
—
I’m jolted out of sleep by a loud crash that rocks my bed like a bomb has gone off outside. Lightning flashes through my room.
My heart punches up my throat as I move, my muscles jittery from the crude awakening. I reach for the lamp on my nightstand, but the room remains cloaked in darkness, other than flickers of more lightning through the curtains. The storm has knocked the power out.
I groan before rolling fully over onto my side to check the time on my phone. It’s 4:42 in the morning. I’ve barely been asleep for an hour. The storm raging outside will likely keep me awake.
Dropping my phone back onto the nightstand, I swallow dryly. My throat is parched, and I forgot to grab some water from the fridge.
“ Fuuuck ,” I growl into the dark room, then fling the covers aside, bracing for the chill to hit me.
My legs feel like jelly. Reluctantly, I trudge down the hall to the kitchen to lift a bottle from the fridge while lightning and thunder wreck the house simultaneously. At least I don’t need a flashlight.
Cracking the plastic seal, I take several big gulps.
The mouth of the bottle stills against my lips. With the cold water on my tongue, my heartbeat suddenly picks up. The sound of a steady drip reaches my ears.
Instinctively, my eyes shoot to the faucet in the kitchen first, but the sound appears to come from somewhere down the hall. The bathroom, I figure .
Replacing the cap on the bottle, I creep down the hall and turn into the bathroom to check, only to find neither a leaky faucet nor shower head. The tile and sink are bone dry to my touch.
Drip, drip, it goes again behind me.
Lightning streaks through the hallway as I turn over my shoulder, and another round of thunder cracks so close the floorboard beneath my bare feet trembles.
My hackles raise. My breaths fall heavy.
On shaky steps I inch toward my bedroom door. The entire space reveals itself to me bit by bit until I can take in the full sight.
I barely feel the bottle slipping from my grip before the thud registers in my ears.
Shoulders heaving, clothes soaking wet, Mason stands in front of the window, the air around him crackling with the same threatening energy as the storm outside.
He’s a towering mass of black, sucking the oxygen out of my lungs.
“Mason!” I gasp, my eyes locking with his in shock.
Slick, dark strands drape over his, adding to the menacing look of him. The rest of his face is hidden behind the half skull mask, but I can feel the cruel grin stretching underneath it as shivers chase down my spine. The cut above his eye still looks fresh. It glistens from the rain.
Drip. Drip.
He cocks his head. The dripping sound is coming from him.
I raise my palm in warning. “You need to leave,” I tell him, willing my tone steady. “You can’t keep coming back here. ”
Holding my gaze, he doesn’t respond, and my fear doubles.
What if he’s in a trance?
“Get out, Mason,” I repeat more forcefully, using his name this time.
He still doesn’t answer, but his head gives a deliberately slow shake while his dark stare pins me.
His gloved fingers flex.
Fuck!
I swing around to run, but a grip in my hair halts my escape when he crosses the distance to me in a split second. His left hand using the door frame for leverage, he rips me back into the bedroom.
I stumble while he stands firm, locking his arms around my middle and crushing me to his chest.
“Let me go!” I twist in his hold as my feet lose the ground underneath them. My fingernails claw at the bit of skin I catch between his gloves and the sleeves of his black sweatshirt.
The fact that he still doesn’t speak to me only drives my fear higher. My racing pulse chokes my breath. The sandalwood and spice of his cologne strangle me like a noose.
He spins us around, using the momentum to throw me onto the bed. My body rebounds. I’m able to scramble on my knees to get to the lamp before he descends on me, but when I swing it at his head, he dodges my attempt and rips it out of my hands. It crashes into my mirror.
The sound of clattering shards fills the room at the same moment his right hand darts out, seizing the front of my throat and pushing me onto my back while his left hand cuffs my wrist. His knees come up in between my bent legs, his stance wide as he easily overpowers me.
A pit opens in my stomach. His tousled dark blond hair falls over his face, setting his irises into a shadow so deep there’s no green left. The cut above his eye arches almost mockingly.
I’ve never been so afraid of him. I’ve seen him in this mask, but I don’t recognize the look in his eyes. There’s no trust. It’s like I’ve never met this man before.
His weight drives my wrist into the mattress above my head when his masked face lowers to me, his nose almost brushing mine. “You like being choked, don’t you, baby girl?” his voice rasps through the cloth.
His stare studies me. His gloved fingers flex around my throat, his thumb pressing down on my jugular vein.
“Stop. P-please, Mason,” I stammer, tears streaming down my face. “You promised… you promised I’d be safe with you.”
His lips press to the shell of my ear, his icy breath inciting more shivers. “I lied.”
I want to scream at his betrayal, but my voice chokes on my tears. I know if I pass out, I’ll never wake up again. I’ll be the next girl in the news.
I feel my muscles start to relax as my body goes numb. My free hand shoves at him. My legs thrash. I fight Mason with everything I have.
As I flail in his hold, my right foot connects with the nightstand, knocking it over, and sending my phone skidding down the hallway on the wood flooring .
Fuck! I need to reach it. I need to call Ash.
Thunder roars outside, and in my periphery, the curtain billows in the wind from the still-open window. I see Mason’s eyes flick toward it.
I take my shot, drawing my fist back and ramming the knuckles of my left hand into his Adam’s apple.
The moment his hold on me slips, I kick off and run, swiping my phone off the floor before lunging into the bathroom and locking the door behind me.
Dropped into a crouch, I back up against the far wall. My fingers tremble as I open my contacts and click on Ash’s name at the top. Listening for the dial tone, I wait for it to connect.
Then it rings…
...right outside the bathroom.
“Well shit!” Ash’s voice calls out from the hallway.
There’s a long beat when I don’t understand.
“I was really hoping I could convince you I’m him, so you’d finally kick him, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”
Ash?
In the next second, the bottom of his boot collides with the door in a deafening BOOM! The useless slab of wood flies inward, pieces from around the lock shooting toward where I cower. My arms come up to shield my head.
Three heavy strides rush me. Barging in, Ash snatches my phone from my grasp and flings it into the shower. I scream, watching it explode into pieces against the tile as I swat and kick at his hands trying to grab me again.
His grip locks around my ankle .
Another scream ruptures my throat when he yanks me down onto the ground to drag me out into the hallway. I kick with my free foot and flip onto my stomach, but my slick palms slide along the ground, finding no purchase.
Gripping my wrists, Ash flips me over and lays me out, my back hitting the ground. My head flings left and right, hair blocking my view as I fight him.
He straddles my hips before my knees can make contact with any part of him. My struggle is futile. He’s so much stronger than me. His fingers only clamp tighter around my wrists.
“Fuck, Em.” Pain flares in my forearms. Ash slams my hands down hard on either side of my head, a note of intrigue winding through his harsh breaths. “You really have some fight in you. This could’ve been fun.”
His voice rings much clearer now. With his mask down, tucked under his chin, I recognize him but also not.
He’s like a different Ash I’ve never seen before, no longer hiding behind his jovial facade.
The sharp lines of his face are hard in a way that has erased all the charm his features once held.
The cut on his eyebrow… I assume he inflicted it on himself to match Mason’s. All to fool me.
Even used his cologne.
He’s the liar. He’s the one I should’ve been afraid of.
“Such a shame that you had to figure it out.” He shifts my arms, locking them in a one-handed grip above my head. His right hand wraps around the front of my throat once more, and his next comment seals my fate .
“Now I have to make sure you don’t tell, but what’s one more strangled girl?” he grates out, the words laced with a dark chuckle.
My bottom drops out. My voice attracts a quiver. “ You! ”
Ash is the one who killed the girls, and now he’s going to kill me too.
His fingers tighten around my throat. His thumb strokes across my jugular in mocking of my ignorance. “You’re so na?ve, Em. You walked right into the lions’ den and didn’t even know it.”
My sob hitches against the pressure of his palm. He’s right. I was so blind to the danger I put myself in.
“Well, I hope that thrill you were looking for was worth your life.” He releases my wrists, but it doesn’t matter. I’m starting to feel light-headed. I can’t lift my arms. They’re too heavy to fight back.
Keeping the vise around my throat, his left hand traces the low cut of my shirt, teasing it down. “What do you think, baby girl? Should we let him watch one last time?”
His words carry as if underwater, dragging my conscience further and further away, and even though I can’t move a muscle to save myself, I’m still fully aware of his body pressing down on me.
I feel him shift to pull out his phone.
Ash points the camera at me. I catch a glimpse of his grin before the flash comes on, blinding me.
His thumb twitches where it digs into my jugular vein. “Just a few more seconds, baby girl. Relax for me, yeah? ”
This is it. My vision begins to fade at the edges as thunder rocks the floorboards again. The vibration chases tremors through my weak limbs.
Then two black gloves rip Ash off me by his shoulders.