Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
The dot indicating her phone appears to the west and I follow, using the swarm of students as camouflage against the guards’ watchful gazes.
And since I have an impeccable memory, I actually manage to avoid most of the cameras, despite the fact that they’re barely visible at night, and only if you look very hard.
Ava, the suicidal troublemaker, has actually gone to the forest surrounding the mansion.
Please tell me she isn’t drunk. Please tell me she isn’t drunk.
I quicken my pace to catch up to her, going through all the trouble of using rocks and bushes to hide from the cameras.
The music from the main house dulls until I can only hear the throbbing of the bass, and the cheers and noise eventually die down.
Which means we’re too far from everyone else.
Ava, come on.
Just when I’m about two hundred meters from her, she changes direction and picks up speed back toward the mansion.
The revving of a motorcycle nearly deafens me and I realize that’s what she must be on.
Did a guard find her and escort her back?
Either way, at least she’s not wandering around God knows where.
The silence returns, more stifling this time, and I cast a glance at my surroundings. At first, I think I hear faint footsteps, but they soon disappear.
All that remains is the dark night, the huge trees, and this cursed forest.
Oh, and my ragged breathing.
I carefully turn and march toward the mansion at a steady pace. At first. A few moments later, I’m practically jogging.
Places like this are the setting of horror films and Halloween pranks for a reason.
A hissing sound from somewhere behind me in the bushes reaches me, followed by more footsteps. I come to a halt and start to whirl around.
I’m only half turned when a hand shoots through the darkness and slams me against a tree.
The breath is knocked out of my lungs, and my whole body freezes.
I’m dwarfed by the person at my back, his hand shackled around my nape and his steady breathing licking at my skin like wildfire.
“What—”
“Shhh,” his rough voice sounds in my ear like a twisted symphony.
An invitation to the dark side.
A way out.
Something flashes in the darkness and then he shoves a phone in my face with the club’s app on the screen, where his congratulatory message is displayed.
At the top, there’s ‘Primal Kink’ and my username as his specified partner.
My choppy breathing slows to a rhythm that’s similar to his. Not as controlled, but close.
It’s Landon.
This is actually happening.
Though…wait.
I’m not wearing a mask as I said I’d be. Does this mean he knows who I am and he still wants to do this?
A feeling of complete thrill ripples through me at the thought.
His hold loosens from around my neck and then his gravelly, too-rough voice orders, “Run.”
I stumble, and the place where he touched me tingles and burns. I want to look at him, and I can feel him behind me as tall as a god and just as lethal.
One twist of my head and I would see him.
But I don’t try.
Instead, I shift and then do as he said.
I run.
5
CECILY
If anyone were to watch this scene from the outside looking in, they’d think it was the epitome of craziness.
A foreign entity has grabbed hold of my consciousness ever since I was ambushed in the middle of the hauntingly eerie forest.
I haven’t stopped running.
Adrenaline pumps in my veins with nauseating inflation until I nearly throw up with it.
If this is insane, the one chasing me is at the peak of the madness scale.
He didn’t tell me to run to give me an opening, no. He did it because he probably gets off on seeing me flounder.
Gasping for air.
Getting lost on unknown grounds.
Are his muscles as stiff as mine? Is blood pumping in his veins with overwhelming power? Is his pulse skyrocketing with each passing second, refusing to be contained or calmed?
If I were to reach into my chest, the only thing I’d be able to touch is the remains of my exploding heart and the decimation of my withering morals.
However, shame is the last emotion on my mind as I keep running and running. Fallen branches and the bushes scratch against my legs and hands, but I shove them out of the way.
I trip on a stray rock, groaning in pain, but I barely pause before picking up my pace again.
My lungs burn and my muscles scream with exertion.
It’s the fastest I’ve run in my whole life.
And yet, his footsteps remain steady behind me. I hear them now and again, coming from different directions, flashing in and out of the night like a ghost’s.
For a moment, I think my state of hyperawareness is making up things. Otherwise, how could footsteps be heard one second and disappear the next?
It’s almost as if it’s being done…on purpose.