The air feels off.
The street looks empty but I can’t shake the overwhelming feeling that I’m beingwatched. I pull up my hood so that it covers my hair, keeping my head on a swivel as I quicken my pace, crossing the street for good measure, no sign of anyone else around.
But that feeling—that feeling—eyes watching me, burning into my back, it never leaves, no matter how many times I look over my shoulder, certain I’ll catch someone following me, but every time I turn around, there’s no one there.
All that work in the studio to center myself, to calm my racing heart, it’s all for nothing because it’s racing again now, my blood pressure rising, and the goosebumps along my arms arenotfrom the cold.
My building comes into view and I’m practically running to it now. It’s so dark outside; the slum lord that runs our apartment building hasn’t replaced the doorway light in the entire three years we’ve lived here.
The lock on the front door is busted too, so I push my way through it, taking the stairs two at a time until I reach my apartment. Nervous, I fumble with my keys, too busy watching my back, and the dark end of the hallway, to get the goddamn key into the lock.
Finally, it slides in. I unlock the door and then the deadbolt, throwing myself inside like the devil himself is on my heels, quickly sliding the deadbolt back into place and the chain, too, for good measure. Standing on my toes, I peer through the peephole to check the hall one last time.
I see nothing. The hallway outside is empty, quiet at this late hour, and I chastise myself for my paranoia.
Get it together, Briar.
Safely inside my apartment, the panic I’d let take over ebbs away into exhaustion. I know I pushed myself too far in the studio tonight, purposefully pushing myself past my limit inhopes that it would help me sleep. Whatever sleep I got last night and this morning was plagued by nightmares, leaving me feeling more tired than if I had just stayed up.
I set my bag down by the door, leaving my keys and phone on the island. I pop my head in briefly on a sleeping Remi before crossing the hall and into my room.
The second I enter my bedroom, I sense it.
The room feels darker, smells… off.
I freeze at the sight of the open window.I know I didn’t?—
Movement in the far corner sends me skittering backwards, but he’s on me in an instant. I go to scream, but a gloved hand comes up, covering my mouth while another snakes around my middle, trapping me against him.
I yelp at the sharp pain when the raw, angry cuts on my back are pressed against his front. My body jerks and trembles, and the searing pain brings tears to my eyes. I don’t even fight him, too panicked, fear seizing my senses, paralyzing me.
“Don’t scream,” a dark voice whispers in my ear. “You’ll only make a bigger mess for me to clean up.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.He’s holding me tight to his body and I can feel every hard edge of him.
Is he going to hurt me? Is he going to?—
Oh god,Remi is right across the hall, and Lily is probably already asleep next door. Maybe if I scream loudly enough, and put up enough of a fight to wake her up, she can get Remi out while I distract him and?—
He spins me suddenly, so now my back is to the wall, allowing him to cage me in, though he doesn’t push me against it. The searing pain from my back subsides. His hand is still pressed to my mouth and I have to tilt my chin to see his face. He’s wearing a mask, one that leaves only his eyes visible. A wave of both relief and inexplicable terror spreads through me at the sight of the darkened green eyes glaring down at me.
Koen.
My eyes must go wide because he tilts his head. “You know who I am?”
I nod slowly, my body shaking.
“Then you know what I’m capable of?”
I hesitate, but nod again. Never breaking eye contact, not even to blink.
He studies me for a moment, searches my face, considering something.
“I’m going to let you go. You’re not going to scream when I do,” he tells me.
I just stare wide-eyed at him.
Shadowed eyes narrow on me. “Nod, so I know you understand.”
