“¿Que? ¡¿QUE?!” she screeches, panic now filling her voice.
“Jesus,” Rogue complains.
“Yep,” I mutter bitterly, slipping on socks next before shoving my feet into my Docs and haphazardly tying them up.
Now that Dread is after me tonight, I no longer have time to pack. I need to get the fuck out of here before either of them finds me.
“I’m calling the co?—”
“I already have one on the way. Don’t worry about it. I don’t know where Dread is right now or what he has planned, but I’m going to try and get to a hotel before he can get to me. Or before Lionel can,” I grumble the last part as I grab my coat and shrug it on. I snatch my charger from the wall and stuff it in the pocket. “If you want to place a bet on who will find me first, my cash is on Lionel.”
Sable sputters, clearly at a loss for words, but I also don’t have time to wait for her to find them. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll try to text you if Imake it.”
“Rev, no, wait. Stay on the phone!” she pleads, but her voice is sharp as she snaps, “Stop fucking touching shit!”
A sharp knock on my door has me freezing in my tracks, my heart tumbling into the pit of my stomach.
I don’t know who’s on the other side, but the likelihood I won’t like it is so astronomically high, I consider just jumping out of my fucking window. Except I'll probably break my legs, so there’s nowhere else for me to go except through whoever’s outside the door.
“I have to go,” I repeat. “Try not to worry, okay? The officer is gonna camp outside my hotel door, I'm sure. I love you.”
I hang up before she can get out another word. If I survive the night, the likelihood of Sable murdering me has me reconsidering just staying in bed and writing my obituary instead.
After slipping the phone in my coat pocket, I grab my scissors from my desk and quietly tiptoe toward the door. Fuck whoever built these dorms—they didn't give us peepholes. It would be fantastic right now to know who's on the other side.
However, I don't allow myself time to dwell on whose face I’m going to see. If I do, I’ll panic again. So, I fist the scissors with the sharp point out, raise my arm, and whip open the door with my other hand.
My reflexes stop me from stabbing a police officer in the eye just in time.
The man screams, his voice pitching high as he jumps back, a look of absolute terror on his face.
Frozen, we stare at one another with wide eyes and heaving chests, though only one of us looks as if they shit their pants, and it’s certainly not me.
Once my brain processes I’m not in imminent danger, I quickly drop my arm and step back.
“I-I’m so sorry, I thought you were…” I trail off, not sure which monster to choose from.
The officer quickly straightens, face cherry red as he clears his throat, and puffs out his chest, as if that’s going to restore his manhood.
I would weigh the likelihood of him soiling himself, but I think the poor guy might actually need the obituary more than I do.
He hooks his thumbs in his belt, and says, “Reverie, I presume? I’m Officer Nichols. I’m here to keep you safe.”
CHAPTER 12
REVERIE
“I…”
—donothave confidence in him keeping me safe whatsoever, but I’m so goddamn relieved he’s not Dread or Lionel, I could kiss the man.
With his shorter stature, freckled baby face, and gelled-back red-orange hair, he’s not exactly someone I’d go for. But if it’s widely accepted that sex can make you do or say crazy shit in the heat of the moment, then I’m pretty sure not coming face to face with a bully or a serial killer can be as well.
“I would love that,” I finish breathlessly. “Yes, please, let’s go.”
His answering smile is both confused and pleased as I quickly usher him out of my room and lock the door behind me.
Not that it really matters when, evidently, it does fuck all to keep predators out of it.
