Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
The lock is turned.
In shock, I spin on my heels.
But the person standing in the door opening doesn’t look anything like Nathan.
In fact, he isn’t even wearing that red hoodie.
It’s someone in a long black hoodie and a green Purge LED mask that turns the eyes into crosses with a terrifying smile that’s sewed up.
In the dark, it’s almost as if the face comes alive.
“Hello, Penelope.”
Oh God.
That voice. I’d recognize it in a second.
Felix Rivera.
I knew there was a chance I’d bump into him during my search, but this is too much of a coincidence.
“How did you know I was here?” I say through gritted teeth.
He laughs, tilting his head, which makes the mask look super creepy. “I saw you looking into the cameras.”
Shit. I’d forgotten about them.
Of course, he’d be looking through the footage.
“So you creep on your own guests?” I ask.
He steps forward, so I take one back. “I take every precaution …”
Against unwanted guests? What a joke.
“Your buddy Alistair hung those invitations all around school. Not my fault I checked it out.”
“You don’t think that was intentional?”
He laughs again, and it’s a visceral laugh that I can only describe as mania.
Just as chilling as the mask he’s wearing on that stoic face of his.
“Oh, Penelope … you have so much to learn.” He puts his hand over his face, his fingers squeezing the mask, like he’s holding himself back from tearing into me. “But I will fucking teach you.”
A shiver runs up and down my spine.
He walks even closer, and I shudder in place, wondering if I should pull the knife on him. But if I do, things will go south very quickly. I have to time it right.
My eyes flick to the door. There’s a keyhole. He must have the key in his pocket somewhere, and there’s no way I’m going to unlock it without it.
“What are you doing here, Penelope?” he asks.
I suck in a breath. “Why do you care?”
“Because this is my room.”
His room? Whoa. That only makes this skeleton room a whole lot scarier.
“And you’re trespassing,” he adds.
“I’m looking for someone,” I say.
“Who and why?”
“Some guy called Nathan. And none of your business.”
“Lesson number one …”
His voice is dark. Heavy. Too heavy.
And I don’t like the tone.
“Everything that happens in this house is my business.”
Fine. I’ll play along.
“Someone in your fucked-up Society bullied my sister,” I spit. “And I’m going to find out who. Because they’re responsible for her death.”
His body tenses. “You accusing people of murder?”
I tilt my head, defiantly standing my ground. “Maybe I am.”
He walks closer. Too close to my liking.
I clutch my bag tightly, but freeze when he gets up close and in my face until I can see his eyes behind that mask. His cologne penetrates my nostrils, reminding me of that time I was on my knees with him deep in my throat.
The mere memory sparks another flicker of pleasure, which I quickly tuck away, never to be spoken of out loud.
But in his eyes is that same glimmer, the same kind of wicked need I saw before.
And it makes my whole body erupt into goose bumps.
His hand suddenly anchors around my throat in a heartbeat.
I gasp, but the air refuses to escape.
Panic floods my veins, and he leans in to whisper into my ear, “Do you think I killed her?”
I don’t know how to answer. I don’t know the truth.
But I want to know. Desperately.
His grip slowly tightens around my neck. “Say it.”
“Yes,” I say.
He lets out a small snort. “I like it when you squeak.”
His hand slowly moves toward my chin, and he grips it so tightly I can’t escape. I’ve never feared for my life, but I do now.
What if he’s the one who chased my sister off the cliff?
What if Nathan was just a ruse, a mailboy sent by Felix?
“Good girls don’t get what they want,” he groans, pushing down on my chin until my lips part. “Bad girls get what they deserve.”
He sticks two fingers into my mouth, slowly sliding them across my tongue. I’m overtaken by confusion and the sudden surge of lust coursing through my body that I don’t know how to even respond, let alone act.
With his fingers alone, he manages to subdue me. “Perfect,” he groans. “Just needs a little training …” He goes in so deep that I gag. “But you want to be a good little slut for me, don’t you?”
Fuck. I can’t let him do this again.
In a moment of clarity, I bite down.
He pulls out his fingers, grating against my teeth.
His blood drips down onto my tongue, and I spit it out.
“Such a fucking spitter … it’s about time someone taught you how to swallow,” he growls.
“Fuck you,” I say. And I rip open my bag and take out my knife, stepping away so he can’t touch me. “Don’t you fucking try.”