16. Mona
The shell of my ear is pressed to the door, every nerve in my body standing on end. A chill runs down my spine as I hear a man’s muffled voice.
Oh God, not a man breaking in. That’s the worst-case scenario. I’d much rather it be a ghost.
“What’s going on?” Spooky Boy’s voice floods my other ear, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Mona.”
“Shh. I’m listening,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath and calm my heart. “I thought I heard voices.”
“I’m coming, baby. I’m almost there.” His voice is protective, wrapping me in an invisible shield.
“Someone’s here,” I murmur, my words sounding unrecognizable between my ragged breaths.
A different deep tone makes me shudder. Great, he‘s not alone. At least I’m in a hidden room that they’re not likely to stumble upon.
“Scratch that. There’s more than one person.”
“Stay quiet and stay where you are. I’m pulling in now.”
The audio shifts, like it disconnects from the Bluetooth and redirects to his phone as I hear his car door slam shut through the phone. Loud rustling noises fill my ear, and I pull my phone away for a few seconds until it wanes.
“Can you hear me?” There’s an odd calmness in his question, but I chalk it up to him trying to keep me at ease. “Mona?”
“I’m here,” I whisper softly, hoping whoever’s on the other side of this wall doesn’t hear me.
“I’m walking up to the front door, coming straight to you.”
Thank God.
It still doesn’t go unnoticed that my savior is my stalker, but I don’t think it ever will. I’m just glad he’s here to save Penelope and me.
Eerie silence echoes through the phone and the house, as the whispers have faded. Maybe they moved back downstairs, whoever the hell they are.
“Did you see them on the cameras?” I murmur, hoping that it’s staff working late or a private event that I didn’t hear about … at eleven o’clock at night.
A moment passes, and he doesn’t say anything.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” My whisper is desperate and frantic, my heartbeat thumping in my ears.
He gasps, like he’s hurt, a pained grunt leading his words. “Get under your bed. They’re heading to your room.”
“What?” I gasp, frozen in place. “Are you serious?”
Three beeps, and his call’s gone. As is my damn sanity.
Panic floods my body, and I suddenly wish I had a gun, or a knife, or a bat. No, I wish Penelope could transform into a ten-foot-tall spider and protect me.
A loud bang sounds in the hallway, and I scurry away from the door, snatching Penelope’s enclosure from my nightstand.
“It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.”
Dropping to my knees, I slide under the bed, flattening my body against the length of the back wall, Pen’s cage tucked into the crook of my neck.
Who the hell are these guys?
Robbers who know the secret blueprints of the house? Oh God, they’re going to kill me. Is that what they did with my man? Is he lying downstairs, bleeding out before I can even see his face? The world would be so cruel.
Then I hear it, the click of the mechanism in the hidden door unlatching.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My skin is crawling, my stomach twisted with fear. I’m hugging the enclosure as tightly as I can and slamming my eyes shut in the process.
I don’t want to die. I just finally started enjoying my life. This would be a terrible time to go.
Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.
Heavy footsteps hit the hardwood floor as the intruder steps inside my room, the door clicking shut a moment later.
Oh God. He’s sealed himself inside.
Spooky Boy, where are you?
A flicker of light fills my vision as I open my eyes and turn my head to the left to see if maybe I imagined those sounds and whoever it is isn’t here. My body’s quivering, and my palms are sweating. Large boots, similar to mine, are five feet away, facing me, terrorizing me.
He’s going to get free and come for me, save me from whoever this is. Come on, Masked Man.
I’m scared. But not nearly as horrified as I am when the room is plunged into darkness.
Tap. Tap.
A finger hits the wall and drags down the paper, his boots stepping forward. My heart thumps so hard that I’m worried it broke a rib.
There’s no way he knows I’m here. How would he? He’s just clearing the room and moving on to the next. A robber. Nonviolent, I’d like to imagine.
Another step. Two more taps of his finger.
Please be nonviolent.
Step. Tap. Tap.
Step. Tap. Tap.
I can’t see his feet, but he sounds a lot closer. He has to be near the edge of the bed. Weight presses into the mattress, the frame creaking above me. But it must have just been a hand or something because I hear his feet shift against the floor, clanking off the metal on the frame.
A heavy breath fills the room, and I slam my eyes shut again, not that having them closed makes a difference since I couldn’t see anyway.
Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath, not wanting to risk him hearing me. Go away. Go away.
My stomach hardens as a terrible thought dawns on me …
How can he clear the room in the dark?
But it’s far too late for that realization or for me to do anything at all because my shriek is cracking through air when my body is dragged across the floor with a hand fisted in my shirt.
I can’t think. I can’t move. I’m completely frozen as I’m yanked from under the bed.
A hand quickly finds my mouth, and something snaps in me. I rear my leg back, ready to send it home, but it’s like he expected it, and I’m suddenly soaring, being thrown over his shoulder like a doll.
“Put me down!” I slap, punch, claw at his back. But he doesn’t budge. “I’m going to kill you!”
“You can try”—the voice freezes my fist midair, the familiarity shocking my system to the core—“Scaredy-Cat.”
Relief floods me, not enough to shake the chill from my bones, but enough for me to gasp. “Oh, thank God.”
His arm bends, reaching up toward his face, and a second later, a purple glow floods the small room. My shoulders relax almost immediately.
“Happy to see me?”
“Always,” I exhale as he lowers me into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist, like they’ve done it a thousand times.
But there’s an itch, a tiny bug under my skin, and I’m not sure if my brain feels slower than normal because of what just happened or—
“Wait, hold on.” Flattening my palms on his shoulders, I shove him, locking my elbows. But he doesn’t put me down; he squeezes me tighter. “You … the phone … what the fuck is going on?!”
A maniacal laugh tears through the room, and he carries me over to the hidden door, pressing my back against it and caging me in completely.
“The people here …” His eyes are glowing purple from the lights of his mask, making his amusement even brighter and the anger in mine burn hotter. “They’re not going to hurt you or me. They’re ghost hunters, filming for their YouTube channel.”
Nothing. Not a blink. Not a breath. Not a twitch. I’m frozen to the core, processing what he just told me. And then reprocessing it because it means that he and I were never in any real danger.
“Do you remember what I said a minute ago? That I’m going to kill you?” I grind out through my teeth. He nods. “That threat still stands.” I wiggle violently in his grasp, not budging in the slightest. “Put. Me. Down.”
Balancing my weight in one arm, my back against the wall, he lowers his hand, and I’m not sure what he’s doing until I hear the metallic click of a blade opening.
I don’t have time to react before cold metal presses against my throat.
“Go ahead. Try and kill me, baby. Let’s see how far you get.”
My core pulses all on its own, ignoring the anger coursing through me. He faked this just to scare me, to heighten my senses, to drag me out from under the bed and haul me over his shoulder.
That’s hot.
Fuck off! I argue. Not helpful!
I told him I wanted to be caught off guard, and, boy, did he do that. But I can still feel the adrenaline in my system, my heart racing faster than normal. I was petrified. Meanwhile, he’s putting on an award-winning act.
And now you’re in his arms with his knife on your neck. Stop being greedy and appreciate the moment.
Sometimes, I wonder how crazy people would think I am, given the arguments I have with myself. But all I can think about right now is this. My stalker pressing a blade against me, pinning me to the wall, my panties damp. I think my inner monologue is the least crazy thing about me.
As much as I love the position we’re in right now, I have to tell him the truth. He’s always respected my needs, wants, boundaries, given the circumstances.
“You scared me. Really scared me.”
Squishing me between him and the wall, he leans his mask against my forehead.
“For that, I’m sorry. I took it too far.
It truly wasn’t until I got here that I saw their vans and heard them talking downstairs in the entryway by the front door about their plan for the night that I knew you were safe.
I won’t do that again—at least without your prior consent. Deal?”
I huff, crossing my arms, feeling immediately reassured and cherished, like my voice has weight and he really cares about it—something I’ve rarely experienced in all my life. “Fine. But I’m still mad at you.”
His fingers are digging into my hips, somehow holding me in place. With a semi-squat, he lowers my ass against his hardened bulge. A delicious shiver runs through me, a sharp inhale whistling through my teeth.
“You can be mad all you want while you’re riding me, Scaredy-Cat, but I’m not leaving this room until I fuck the forgiveness out of you.” His deep, husky voice is an invisible leash, tethering me to him, and honestly, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
My pussy pulses, fully ready to beg for it if she has to.
Get it together.
My pursed lips part. “You think I have a breaking point? You probably can’t even find it.”
A slow, terrifying laugh sends goose bumps running down my arms.