‘Turn around. Slowly. I’ve got a knife, and I’ll stab it right between your legs if you try anything.’
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She’s standing four feet away, next to her open door. Barefoot on the cold brick in her pink pyjamas, with her blonde hair mussed from sleep. The kitchen knife she brandishes shakes in her grip, which is all wrong. She’s more likely to cut herself if she attacks than anything else. Not that I’d stop her. Kat can stab me all she likes, because I am smitten under her gaze.
Hell, I’d probably beg her to stab me again for a closer look at her pretty blue eyes.
We stand there, frozen, as she takes in my height, the leather jacket, the gloves. The mask with its stupid fucking heart eyes.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
Answering feels like too surmountable a task. I feel like that little boy who couldn’t dare talk to her all over again. Except this time she has a knife rather than a cheese sandwich to offer me.
Even with the car and the fact that amasked man is outside her window, she’s still that unstoppable force I met all those years ago.
Fourteen years. One month. Two weeks. Three days. Fifteen hours. Thirty-three minutes.
My chest burns with need.
‘There you are,’ I breathe.
TEN
KAT
‘There you are,’the masked man says, and the way his voice thickens catches me off guard.
When I’d seen a shadow moving past my window earlier, I’d armed myself, ready to confront the fucker once and for all, but whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t for three words to so thoroughly uproot me.
The figure lurking in the alley is tall and broad and could definitely kill me if he wants to do so. My throat goes dry as I hold the knife tighter.
It takes me a minute to see the bright pink hearts painted on the black balaclava. Everything from his jaw to his hairline is covered. Two pink, uneven hearts.
My stomach tightens.
I’d spent two weeks convincing myself was paranoia that I am being followed, that it’s more than just notes.I’d lain in the dark with a stone in my hand and let Ellie talk me out of believing my instincts.
I wasn’t imagininganything.
‘Who are you?’ I whisper.
He still hasn’t moved. Just stands there, those painted hearts circling dark eyes that stare at me with a stillness that makes my skin crawl.
‘You know who I am, Kat.’
He’s not frightened of the knife. Or me.
He takes a step closer, the light from the doorway falling across his masked face, those deep brown eyes glowing with a warmth that I remember.
But the notes. The stone in my hand while I slept.You’re nextscraped into my car. Him, outside my window. How many nights had I lain there thinking I was safe because the door was locked, while he stood in the alley like a fucking weirdo?
The fear tips over into anger.
‘Take off the mask,’ I demand.
‘No.’
‘Take. It. Off.’ I attempt to sound fierce, but I’m not convinced I do. ‘Show me your face. Why are you doing this to me?’
