I cover my face with my hand even as Elias laughs at my discomfort.
“Want me to post it online?” that same disembodied voice asks.
That wakes my body up faster than an icy plunge. “What?” I hiss, pushing up from the table. “You can’t do that!”
“And why not?” Elias asks casually. He tucked his dick in and fixed his clothes, looking completely unfazed, while I’m sprawled like a messy ritual sacrifice. “You were going to tell the world about our private matters.”
I hop off the table and steady myself, my palm nearly slipping in the pink-smeared liquid covering it.
“I was going to write about disappearances!” I protest.
Elias raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expose our connection with the disappearances without everyone finding out what the Sanctum of Ash did to us. Why they deserve to die.”
“So you admit you killed them?” I ask, my reporter alter ego taking over seamlessly, even though I’m a slutty mess right now.
His laughter is mirthless, his strong arms crossing even as he looks heavenward.
“That’s all you want to know, Jules? Not about the rapes? The sacrificial mutilations, murders, drugging?”
I feel the blood drain from my face, pins and needles prickling my skin.
“What are you talking about?” I breathe, my righteous crusade momentarily forgotten. “Is that what happened?”
Elias’s fist slams against the table, and I jump back, nearly falling over a rolling instrument tray.
“Don’t act ignorant, Juliane. What did you think happens inside a cult?”
I throw my hands up.
“I didn’t even know there was a cult until tonight!” My voice breaks halfway through. “I thought there was a serial killer in your carnival.”
“Technically, there are serial killers in this carnival,” the voice from the speakers chimes in.
“Shut up and get out,” Elias growls. For a moment, I think he’s talking to me. “Give us some privacy.”
“Elias,” the voice warns. “She’s a threat. You can’t trust anything she says. She needs to die.”
My pulse hammers in my ears as I step back, skirting the instrument tray. I look around, frantically searching for an escape. Elias locked the door, but… the fake morgue drawers doubling as a staff access door are still slightly ajar.
“I said I’d handle this, Silas,” Elias growls at the man talking over the speakers.
I don’t wait to hear more. Quick as I can, I dart through the staff door and sprint down the corridor. I’m completely naked and covered in sticky fluids, but I don’t care right now—I need to get away from the crazy assholes who are talking about my life like it’s a problem to fix.
Elias’s dark laughter trails me until I find the door leading out of the haunted house, making my hair stand on end.
16
ELIAS
“What are you doing, El?” Silas asks me as soon as I step out of the Haunted House. I don’t break my stride, heading in the direction of my trailer. I need to wash my dick so I can fuck Jules’s sweet pussy again.
I roll my eyes at myself—guess I’m not planning on killing her anymore, or I wouldn’t be worrying about giving a dead girl a UTI.
Si is still following me like a guard dog on a mission. “Talk to me, man. She’s got you twisted.”
Sighing, I admit the truth. “She’s different.”
Silas throws his hands up. “She’s a reporter. She’d tell the world we’re evil murderers if she could.”
