His grin widens. He reaches up, tugging his mask down over his face, and for a second, I just gape at him.
Then he points toward the tree line, voice muffled behind the plastic but no less cocky. “You know the rules. You’ve got thirty seconds, Blue.Run.”
My stomach drops, a rush of adrenaline kicking in even before my brain fully processes what he’s doing.
“You’re insane,” I hiss.
I don’t think. I just bolt.
The concrete gives way to grass and the grass to hard earth as I sprint past the tree line, branches clawing at my bare legs, the skirt I’m wearing flaring with every stride. The October air makes my lungs seize, but it does nothing to cool the heat building everywhere else.
Behind me, I hear him—his feet pounding, steady and relentless. The crunch of leaves, the snaps of twigs, his breath coming quicker the closer he gets. He’s not even trying to be quiet. Hewantsme to hear him coming.
Thirty seconds, my ass.But I guess Mads has never been one to follow the rules.
I push harder, weaving between tree trunks and low-hanging limbs, raw anticipation curling low in my stomach.
“Run faster, Blue!” His voice is muffled by the mask, carried on the wind, teasing and taunting.
I stumble over a root, catch myself on a tree, and keep going. The forest is alive with sound—my ragged breaths, his pursuit, the pounding rhythm that tells me he’s closing the distance. Every time I risk a glance back, the flash of white plastic glints between the trees, closer than before.
My thighs burn, my chest aches, but I don’t slow down. Not even when I think of what happens when he catches me. Not even when every step he gains sends heat pooling between my legs.
He stays close. I can hear every crunch of brush under his boots, each heavy step cutting through the night.
But then I’m running farther away from him than I thought he’d let me, until Colin’s house is gone from sight and the noise of the party has faded away.
Just when I think I’ve shaken him, the sound of his footsteps fall in step with mine again.
I let out a shaky laugh, breathless and wild. “You’re not gonna?—”
A hand snags my wrist, yanking me back against a hard chest. I gasp, the momentum slamming me into him, and we both nearly topple. His other arm locks around my waist, hauling me tight against him.
“Got you,” he growls in my ear, voice low, dark.
Unfamiliar.
My pulse spikes, his grip locking me in place. My chest heaves, still braced to spin around and find Mads there.
But it isn’t him.
The mask staring down at me is the same blank, too-smooth face from the video. My blood goes cold.
I freeze, every instinct screaming as I thrash against him, but his grip is iron, dragging me back into the shadows between the trees. The panic I feel threatens to pull me under when I realize what’s missing—the sound of Mads.
No sound of pursuit. No words tossed after me. Nothing but silence.
“Our little Nancy fucking Drew.” His voice is distorted behind the plastic.
“What the fuck do you want?” I grunt, elbowing him in the ribs.
It doesn’t seem to affect him.
“You know exactly what I want,” he replies, snarling.
I sling my head back in an attempt to smack against whatever part of him I can reach. “Getfucked,” I grunt.
He doesn’t rush. Each word drops with the precision of a report being read aloud. “We know you have the drive, Blake. Getting it back has just proven more difficult than we anticipated. Drugging you, tearing your apartment apart…that got us nowhere. The gas leak bought us more time in your place without having to worry about you or yourproper little gentlemancoming home, but still nothing.”
