Goose bumps pebbled my skin as my attention drifted back to the steps. My throat tightened as memories of that first night returned.
Maybe I hadn’t imagined someone watching me.
Maybe it had been him.
He slung his arm over my shoulders, drawing me closer, as if we were two close pals rather than the hunter and the hunted.
“Now, Blair,” he said.
If I were stupid—and I could admit, coming out here with himwasstupid—I might mistake this for something, dare I say,gentle.
But I knew better.
This was an impostor Enzo. Just another one of his masks.
No one sane flipped between warmth and cruelty that easily.
My eyes snapped shut as his fingers trailed up my neck, slow and deliberate, like a spider searching for the perfect spot to sink its fangs.
I didn’t say a word. Didn’t dare to make a move. Just waited for him to continue.
“I think we got off to a bad start,” he said.
I choked back the scoff burning up my throat.
I am alone with a killer and need to keep my composure.
My sarcasm could come back later.
I swung my feet against the wall. “You think?” I raised a finger. “Ourstartwas you cutting my hair.” Another finger joined it. “You kidnapped me.” A third finger. “And forced me to watch you torture Jett.” I held up my entire hand, displaying my palm. “And then you cut me.”
“Jett?” he asked, saying his name with confusion that’d make any sane person question whether they’d dreamed up the entire scene.
This devil.He was a master manipulator.
“Jett,” I repeated slowly. “The guy you killed.”
“The kid who unfortunately jumped out of a window?” He scratched his head, as if genuinely searching his memory. “I’ll have my mother send flowers to the family. How tragic.” He splayed his hand around my neck, his thumb finding my racing pulse.
I gulped. “A tragedyyoucaused.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Why would I remind him I was a witness?
If he did lure me out to murder me, I’d just reminded him of his reason.
He didn’t react to what I’d said. Didn’t even flinch.
“Are you going to kill me like you did him?” I whispered in a shaky voice.
His thumb stayed on my neck, resting on my pulse, but he didn’t apply more pressure or move it.
It was like he wanted tofeelhow every word affected me.
“I didn’t kill him,” he said.
“I was there.”
My truth was useless. What I’d seen meant nothing. It was hisword against mine, and his was worth more. He knew it just as much as I did.
