“I attend school here,” he answers simply.
I blink and shake my head in both surprise and confusion.
“W-why?” I whisper.
He cocks his head, his gaze almost inquisitive as it traces my form. I’m wearing a loose T-shirt with black leggings rolled up to my knees, yet beneath his stare, I feel naked. I suppress a shiver as he meets my eyes again.
“I promised you I was going to make you suffer, Reverie. I promised to make you wish you were dead.”
Oh, no.
His lips curl wider this time, and frost corrodes my bones and settles deep in my stomach, creating a pit filled with a distinct feeling. It isn’t until he speaks that I’m able to put a name to it.
“I’ve come here to keep my promise.”
Dread.
That’s the feeling currently making a home inside my body.
It’s dread.
CHAPTER 1
REVERIE
Senior Year
January 2025
The Locksmith sliced his victim’s throats open from ear to ear—that was how he killed them.
But not before torturing them. Raping them. Brutalizing them. Slashing their jugulars. Then ripping out a chunk of their hair for his macabre collection before chopping them into pieces and disposing of them.
He was the reaper of Silent Mist, California. In some ways, he still is.
Special Agent Barry Jones and his partner, Jeff Lakes, suspect he murdered over a hundred women, despite recovering only twenty-three bodies. All those women went missing within the same areas, during the same time frame. However, if the investigators believe he could’ve killed that many women, not many would agree.
My heart thuds heavily against my rib cage, and sweat coats mytrembling palms. I see nothing, hear nothing, just a quiet ringing in my ears.
“…Reverie.Reverie.”
I blink. All my senses reopen, except now, everything is too loud—too bright.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Sorry,” I rush out, my tongue feeling heavy and resistant to forming words. I clear my throat, but it doesn’t remove the rock lodged in my windpipe. I can’t breathe, I can’t think—all I can do is feel the soul-crushing weight of dread.
Truthfully, I can’t recall a time I’ve felt anything else.
“Listen, both of us were hoping this would never happen,” Barry begins, his gentle voice emitting through my phone’s speaker, coercing tears to prick at the backs of my eyes. He’s the only one in the world who talks to me that way, and I hate it. Once I hang up, I’m back to the cruel reality of my life. “But you know I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from him.”
What a lonely task, one that will ultimately be wasted.
As much as I want Barry’s words to be true, he can’t protect me. Not from the monster reentering society, and not from the other monster plaguing my every waking hour—even in my nightmares.
I appreciate him for trying, though, considering he and his wife, Brenda, are the few people who care enough.
The day the judge sentenced my father and officers carted him off to prison, Barry came looking for me. My mother nearly burst a blood vessel screaming at him to stay away from us, so Barry gave me a look I’ll never forget—one that made me feelsafe—and told us to reach out if we ever needed anything.
Mom scoffed, but I held on to that offer with a white-knuckled grip until I was thirteen.
