Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
BAILEY
The minutes bleed into each other, and I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, focusing on every sound, searching for any signs that they’re still around.
Sarah and Kayda are nowhere to be seen, but part of me is relieved that they haven't come looking for me. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to them.
The three devils have probably gone to dispose of Harley’s body, so I choose this moment to stand, my legs shaky from the weight of the exertion of running, and the exhaustion of what I saw them do.
Once I’m confident that I’m not going to fall, I slowly turn, but I immediately collide with a wall of muscle.
All the blood drains from my face as fear grips me so tight that my voice gets stuck in my throat.
I open my mouth, desperate to scream, but I'm completely terrified. Tears sting my eyes, but they don’t fall, as I remain locked in the man’s hold.
I don’t try to run. I don’t even blink as I stare up at the ghost mask, its empty eyes cutting through the darkness like a blade under the cold moonlight.
“Look who I found,” Ghost says, his deep, threatening voice melting over me like poisoned honey, as the others close in, standing at either side of him.
My eyes follow their every move, taking in the Myers and Jason masks that cover their faces, and I swear I can almost feel my soul leave my fucking body.
“You know it’s impolite to lurk in the shadows like that. Someone might think you’re a stalker,” the guy on Ghost’s left, the one in the Jason mask, says, and a wave of goosebumps dances across my skin as he slowly lifts his arm and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
My fight or flight mode has obviously malfunctioned, because I don’t even flinch.
The last thing I want to do right now is show any signs that I am afraid, because that would be like winning the fucking lottery for them. If I’m going to die tonight, it won’t be on my fucking knees like Harley. No. It will be with their skin beneath my nails, and their blood between my teeth.
When I say nothing, Ghost gently trails his gloved hand from my arm to my chin, tilting my face until I’m looking up into his hollow, masked stare.
My heart is hammering for all the wrong reasons because there is a messed up part of me that doesn’t hate this.
There’s a quiet, shameful ache from submitting to his intensity and the danger I should be running from.
“We’ve waited forever for you,” Ghost breathes, his voice dripping with dark, insatiable hunger, and despite the hundreds of warning bells screaming in my mind, and the blood still warm on the ground where they killed Harley, my traitorous body wants him.
Wants them, and I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me because I know that it shouldn't. I’m like a dying star, helplessly drawn into their orbit, and it’s only a matter of time before I burn out completely.
“Look at her. She likes the feel of my hands on her skin,” Ghost says teasingly, and I instinctively recoil, causing his hand to fall from my chin. He quickly adjusts his grip on my body, not wanting me to get away.
“Don't talk about me like I'm not fucking here. Let go of me!” I shout like an idiot, because he has the upper hand right now.
A low, villainous laugh fills the space between us, but I hold my gaze, hoping it burns through his stupid mask, which only seems to be doing wicked things to me.
I struggle in his hold, but he grips me tighter, until I eventually stop fighting.
I need to preserve as much energy as possible if I have a chance of getting out of this.
“That’s the hellcat we came for,” the other one, Myers, purrs, and my lips tilt into a disgusted smirk.
“If you came all this way for me, then I hope you brought a shovel. I’ll need it for when I bury the three of you in this forest,” I spit, knowing very fucking well that I am full of shit. This causes them to laugh, and it only pisses me off more.
“Don’t try to pretend with us, Stalker. We know you want this.
We see it. That hunger. You’re like an addict aching for a sweet taste of sin, but you can’t hide from us, Bailey.
Because we see who you really are. You can’t resist our darkness, can you?
You know why that is?” I glare daggers at Jason, his mask almost luminous in the moonlight, and I hate him because he’s right.
Who are they?
Are they from one of my classes?
How the hell do they know me?
“Because you’re just like us,” Jason adds when I don’t answer. I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling them to fuck off, because I assume their patience is wearing thin with me right now, and I’d rather not die tonight if I can help it.
They murdered Harley.
They killed him in cold blood because he saw them kill someone else, and neither one of them brought it up to me. I decide that it’s probably for the best that I don’t bring it up either, because what if they don’t actually know that I was here to see them do it?
Maybe they really do believe that I was stalking them.
“Don’t do that,” Ghost mutters, and my eyes shoot up to stare at his mask, confused, because I thought my being quiet was a positive.
“Do what?”
“Don’t hold back on our account. We like it when you’re feisty. Makes us hard,” Myers cuts in, and it’s all I can do not to kick him right in the damn balls.
The moon is higher in the sky now, making it easier for me to see them, but with their masks in the way, I can’t tell what they’re thinking. For all I know, all of this could be part of their process to lure me in before dragging me to a shallow grave.
“What do you want with me?” I question, my voice weak, and I inwardly wince for letting them see through my false bravado.
“You, Stalker. We want you,” Jason says, barely above a whisper, and I pray they can't see the obvious effect his words have on me. Desire courses through my body with every promised whisper of possession, unravelling my every twisted fantasy I've hidden beneath the surface.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, forcing as much venom into my tone as possible, but it tastes fake, even to me. They must notice the tremor in my voice because it's Ghost who chuckles.
“We're your darkest sin, Little Harlequin, and we will shatter every last piece of you until you're begging for a taste of our salvation.” Uncontrollable want tugs at my resolve at the sound of his dark, rugged voice, and my knees weaken at the thought of them claiming me, taking me for themselves, and the guilt I felt earlier for wanting them, even after everything they did to Harley, starts to dissipate.
“We’re gonna play a little game, Bailey,” Myers says, as he steps in closer to Ghost. Closer to me.
“We're gonna give you ten seconds to run,” the Jason guy says, as he, too, moves in on me, brushing a shoulder with Ghost’s.
“If we catch you, we fuck you, and once we claim what's ours, there's not a damn God alive that will save you.” I gaze up at Ghost in disbelief, and the dread I felt earlier immediately resurfaces, settling in the pit of my stomach. He releases my arms, but my brain doesn’t fully catch up to my body as I try to process what the fuck is happening.
“Ten. Nine…” Jason slowly counts. My pulse starts to quicken, and my breathing becomes frantic as my eyes dart between each of the tall, masked figures before me.
“Tick Tock, Stalker.”
I don’t wait around to hear another word. Spinning on my heels, I bolt. I sprint as fast as I can toward the warehouse like my life depends on it, because there’s still a strong possibility that it does.
They've made me feel every raw emotion in such a short amount of time that I wouldn't be surprised if they made my death feel like a fucking orgasm.
My lungs scream for me to stop, clawing for a full breath of air, but I push through the sharpness, too afraid to look behind me. I know better than to look back at the devil, especially when the devil comes in threes.