The elevator’s moving. He didn’t make it to me in time.
“Ha! I won!” I shout, hoping he can hear my victorious cry.
My celebration is short-lived as the elevator slows. I know where it’s taking me, and I grip the bar at my hips tightly.
They isolated my choice, forcing me to face a new fear entirely—the skywalk that hangs a hundred feet in the air above the ice and above the massive video scoreboards.
There’s a deck that circles the top of the arena, guarded by thick railings that people can’t slip through. On opposite sides of the circle sits the entrances into the skywalk.
People aren’t allowed to cross it unless they’re hooked up to the rope system stretched above it. The only reason I know about it is because I discovered it when I was wandering around sometime last year. I was waiting for my dad to get lunch, and I got bored and found myself facing this death trap.
A memory flashes in my mind, something I forgot about entirely. Bates was there that day … in the elevator when I summoned it to bring me back down.
He made some joke about how scary it was, and I agreed, confessing that height was one of my biggest fears.
God, how did I forget about that?
What other moments did he coincidentally stumble into? I want to rack my mind, search for other instances, but I can’t. I don’t have time.
My brain is empty, my inner voice quiet as the doors open before me, revealing my nightmare in human form.
Bates.
I recognize him, even with his face covered by that burgundy leather heart-eyes mask, the soft LED red lights that outline his eyes illuminating. Jesus, I forgot howcreepy it can look, especially being lit up by my phone in my hand, resting at my side.
“Where are you going to go, Little Cupid?” He steps between the doors, preventing them from closing. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”
His declaration flips a switch inside of me, triggering my fight-or-flight, and apparently, in the face of danger, I choose both.
I flash the light directly into his eyes, and he winces. I shove him to the side, slipping past him and out of the elevator.
“You little brat,” he grunts, and I break out into a fit of giggles as I race around the deck, careful to not glance over the edge, keeping myself tucked back by the wall.
“You’re mine, Serena,” my masked man calls after me.
I book it, moving faster than before as he races to catch me.
“You’re so slow!” I chirp at him. “I thought you were a professional athlete!”
Glancing back over my shoulder proves to be a mistake because I stumble a step when I watch him open his knife, the blade winking at me.
I gasp, struggling to balance myself, reaching out for the railing. Pure, agonizing terror rips through me as my hands wrap around the cold metal, stopping my fall.
“Holy shit,” I exhale shakily.
The world falls out from beneath me, and I suddenly question if I’ve been drugged because when I peer down below, I swear the building rocks side to side.
Oh my God, that’s so far down.
My body breaks out in goose bumps, my complexion paling more and more, the longer I look death in the face.
Suddenly, something sharp presses against my throat, and a hand latches around my waist. “Well, that wasn’t so hard. I thought you’d last longer than that.”
“Bates …” My voice quivers, my breathing erratic.
But Bates isn’t here right now; My Masked Valentine is, and he’s ruthless, pushing me past every limit and fear I have. He doesn’t shift an inch to give me comfort. In fact, he flattens his body against mine, pressing my stomach firmly against the railing.
“Are you scared now? Because I think you were having too much fun getting chased. Where is the thrill in that?” His lips press against my ear, his breath hot.
