The Villain’s Vice (The Dark Triad #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

GRACE

I clutch my purse to my chest, staring down at my traitorous feet planted firmly on the ground. The autumn wind sneaks between the gaps in my coat and under my skin, chilling me to the bone. But no matter how much I want to, I can’t move.

“Don’t do it.” I order my legs to move, to take my advice. “Do not fucking do it...”

A streetlamp flickers above, the gentle hum of electricity lulling me into a false sense of security. The inviting orange glow casts elongated shadows over the cracked sidewalk, and I’m reminded of the late hour—the danger of walking alone at this time of night.

I’ve heard the stories, the whispers. Seen the bodies on the news. A new serial killer is on the loose, and he’s more vicious than any in recorded Moriton history.

Red 7.

I shudder as another cool breeze whips through and tug my coat tighter around me. I refuse to end up as Red 7’s newest victim just because I’m stupid enough to stop and save a trapped animal.

“Best to keep it moving,” I mutter under my breath. “It will probably be fine.”

But even as I say it, I can hear the beast wailing. Its anguished cries pierce through the silence like gunshots, the sound clawing at my heart and bringing tears to my eyes.

I turn my head, staring into the darkened alleyway, attempting to see how far back the animal is located. I aim the flashlight on my phone farther in, but the shadows swallow the light with ease.

I curse, pushing my phone into my pocket. If only I hadn’t stayed late at work to finish those forms, I could have caught the bus home, and I wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament.

And the poor creature would have no one to save it…

I pull my shoulders back and take a quick look around at my surroundings, making sure I’m truly alone. Satisfied, but still wary, I step into the mouth of the alley, shivering as the darkness encroaches from all sides.

I let the animal's cries guide me to its location, my steps light and quick as I race to the end of the back street. Near one of the trash bins lies a writhing gray raccoon, teeth and claws ripping at the metal wire attached to its hind leg while it screams its anguish to the skies.

“It’s okay, little guy. I’m here to help.” I shrug out of my jacket, gritting my teeth as the cold skitters across my bare arms.

Stepping slowly toward the raccoon, I throw my jacket over its head, which seems to calm it for a few moments—that, or it's so scared it froze in terror. Either way, it gives me the chance to secure his head while I carefully work to undo the metal wire digging into its back foot.

After a few moments, my work is done. Not wanting to risk catching rabies, I leave my coat with the raccoon and jump back out of biting distance. The animal shakes off the jacket, turning its head to sniff at its injured back foot.

It fixes me with beady black eyes before promptly turning and scurrying off into the shadows. I frown, noticing it moved with a slight limp. But there’s nothing more I can do now except hope it will fix itself in time.

Shivering, I wrap my arms around my torso, casting a longing glance toward my discarded jacket. “Great thinking, Grace. Now you have to choose between a flea-covered jacket or possible hypothermia...”

Sighing, I reach down to retrieve the article of clothing, but freeze halfway when male voices echo from the mouth of the alley.

I jerk my head up, my eyes widening as I take in the silhouettes of three hooded figures stalking toward me.

Their eyes are bright and smiles filled with malice, and I can tell at a glance that they mean to do harm tonight.

And there’s nowhere for me to run.

I laugh at the irony. Here I was worried about running into Red 7, never thinking of the other monsters who prowl the streets of Moriton at night.

With little else to do, I take a page out of the raccoon's book and scurry behind one of the dumpsters, crouching down in the shadows and praying they’ll leave before I’m spotted.

“What’s this?” One man stoops to pick up my discarded jacket. He brings it to his face, taking a deep inhale as his eyes scour the shadows. “You left your coat, miss! You should come out and get it, or you’ll catch a cold.”

Shit. There goes hoping they didn’t see me.

I peek out over the corner of the bin, frantic eyes taking in the mens’ faces.

The one holding my jacket sports a bright orange Moriton University sweatshirt, with short blond hair peeking out from under his hood.

The one on the left is the shortest of the bunch, with a stocky build and thinning light brown hair to match his shit-colored eyes.

The third man, I recognize. I’ve never interacted with him personally, but I’ve seen his face on the news enough times to recognize the youngest son of Moriton’s mayor.

Brenden Cooper stands armed with a cruel smile and a switchblade, his dark-brown hair plastered to his scalp with a heavy coat of gel. Brenden Cooper, the mayor’s youngest son.

“Come out and play, baby!” Brenden’s voice is sickly sweet despite the large blade clutched in his grip. “It’ll be worse for you if you make us come looking.”

Like a pack of hungry wolves, they begin advancing on my hiding spot. With shaking hands, I reach into my purse and grab my can of pepper spray, having barely enough sense to check it’s pointed in the right direction before pressing the button.

The blond one rounds the corner first, and I slam my thumb down on the trigger, squeezing my eyes shut tight in case the mist blows back on me.

It doesn’t work.

Panic squeezes my throat as I try once more to deploy my pepper spray, but all I get is a weak fizzle of air. I’m not sure if it’s expired or damaged, but it hardly matters now.

“No,” I whisper, jamming the trigger over and over. “No, no, no!”

“That’s cute. Were you trying to use that?” The can is snatched out of my hands, and I gaze up in horror to find the blond man standing over me with a vicious smirk.

“Get away from me!” I scurry back on hands and knees as panic takes over. “Don’t touch me!”

He laughs, grabbing my ankle with ease and hauling me out from behind the dumpster. I aim a kick at his face with my free heel, but I only manage to clip him in the jaw. The other two men surround me, grabbing my arms and yanking me to my feet while the blond one watches with a haughty expression.

I scream, sounding all too much like the raccoon I just saved. But unlike the furry bandit, no one is coming to save me. No one in Moriton would dare stop to help another human being.

The blond takes over for Brenden, holding me still.

Brenden drags his blade lightly across my inner arm while staring deep into my eyes, his tongue sliding along his lower lip.

“Do you like pain, baby? Because you’re about to be in a lot of it.

” He reaches up, sliding the flat of the knife along my cheek.

“If you scream nice and loud for me, I’ll make your death quicker than the last whore. ”

Panic freezes my muscles and wraps an iron fist around my windpipe as the men leer at me. My breaths come in shuddering gasps, and the lack of oxygen makes my vision fade.

This is it. They’re going to rape me and kill me. I’m… going to die.

I close my eyes with a shuddering breath, steeling my shoulders. If that’s true, then I’m not going without a fight. No matter how terrified I might be. No matter how futile it is.

I won’t give these bastards the satisfaction of watching me break. Never again.

“Aw. Is she going to cry? How adorab—OOMPH!”

My knee makes contact with Brenden's balls, and he keels over, crumpling to the ground with a cry of anguish.

I try to step back, but another hand grabs my shoulder, attempting to haul me off balance.

With an animalistic snarl, I whip around, sinking my teeth into the blond man's forearm. Metallic warmth coats my tongue as the man’s scream pierces the cool night air, but neither is enough to distract me.

A fist strikes my face while another grabs a handful of my hair, yanking my head back and attempting to dislodge my grip.

“Get this crazy bitch off me! Fuck!”

“I’m trying, Scott! She won’t let up!”

Another strike—this time to my rib cage. An explosion of pain follows a sharp crack, but all it does is add fuel to the fire.

My victim—Scott—raises his fist to hit me again, but this time, I’m ready for it. Just before he swings, I release his arm and sink to the ground, catching both men by surprise. Instead of my face, Brenden’s buddy takes the brunt of the punch, and the shock makes him loosen his grip on my hair.

Using his distraction to my advantage, I lunge, another scream echoing into the air as I rake my fingernails down Brenden’s face. Skin and blood come away, staining my hands with awful red.

A moment of satisfaction is all I’m granted before three sets of hands grip my arms and haul me to my feet. Strength failing, I let out one last piercing scream as I aim a kick at the knee of the balding man. Sidestepping the blow easily, he lets out a cruel laugh.

“Got you, bitch.”

“Fuck you.” I spit in his face.

He reels back with a look of disgust, lowering his head to wipe off my saliva onto the shoulder of his jacket. “Nasty fucking bitch. I’m going to enjoy cutting you open when they’re done with you.”

Brenden steps closer with an evil grin. The bloody, oozing marks on his face only serve to make him look more sadistic, and a lump of fear begins to form in the pit of my throat.

“Ready to play?” he asks.

I try not to let my terror show, but the laugh that echoes through the alley tells me I’m doing a poor job of it. “I’m not going to make it easy for you fucks,” I hiss, glaring at Brenden with all the hatred I can muster. “You might as well let me go.”

Another round of laughter, and Brenden steps closer, pressing the blade to the side of my throat. There’s a sharp sting, and a trickle of blood slides down my throat, pooling in the grooves on my collarbone.