It looks almost comical in the soft light—bright and ugly and yet so familiar. My thumb drags over the wire stitches, remembering the way he looked at me when I wore mine and the way I felt the first time I realized that seeing him scared could coexist so perfectly with being turned on.
I swallow.
“Color?” comes his voice from the shadows somewhere below, floating up through the slats like smoke. He sounds altered—lower, a little rough—but steady.
“Green,” I say, louder now. “What about you?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Also green,” he answers. “Neon. Like I match.”
I huff out a laugh in spite of myself.
“You’re ridiculous,” I call down.
“And you’re still up there,” he says. “Come run, Monster.”
My skin fizzles like an open can of soda. I set the mask back on the pillow and climb down. The main room looks empty at first glance. The kitchen is dark, the counter is clear and the bathroom door is open. The deck door is barely cracked—just enough that the night air sneaks in, cool and sharp with pine and salt.
I move toward it.
As soon as my hand brushes the knob, a whisper curls over the back of my neck.
“Boo.”
Every muscle in my back seizes and I spin around. Empty space. The couch, the low table with the note.
But no, Caleb.
“Little brat,” I say, but my voice comes out rough.
The air shifts behind me, weight on the little boards leading to the bathroom, a soft creak. I pivot that way. Nothing. Just shadows.
“Your situational awareness is rusty, electrician,” he murmurs, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere.
“Come say that to my face,” I shoot back. “Coward.”
“Careful,” he says. “You never know what you’re going to be getting into.”
Oh, this is game on.
Last time he taunted me, Caleb ended up naked and shaking and more alive than he’d felt in years.
My mouth goes dry.
“Oh, I know what you’re gonna get,hermoso,” I say. “This cock.”
“That’s what you think.” His tone softens.
There’s a tiny twinge of fear, yeah. But it’s braided tight with anticipation, with this weird, raw pride that he’s the one playing predator this time.
The cracked deck door beckons, so I ease it open and step out. Night hits me full force, cool air, darker than any city sky I’ve known, and the trees looming like giants. The fairy lights along the rope bridge and railing cast small pools of gold, leaving everything beyond in shifting shadow.
The bridge creaks as I step onto it, the boards dip under my feet. The drop below is just a smell and a sense of space.
I move slowly, every sense straining.
Halfway across, the ropes tremble but not from me. From something else.
