Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
He didn’t take the bait.
Of course he wouldn’t. I was a fucking idiot for thinking he’d be that stupid. Instead of following the sound, he homed in on my location. I did the only thing left to do.
I ran.
And he chased.
He was fast, faster than I could have imagined. The distance between us was becoming much too small. I spun on my heels and sprinted in the opposite direction, away from the boy I adored, away from the voice that haunted me. The library became a blur as I weaved through it, the looming silhouette of the Christmas tree growing larger as I got closer. Once I got past this, the doors were just a few strides ahead.
I was almost there when arms seized me from behind, strong, and unyielding. Adrenaline surged through my veins, igniting a primal instinct to fight as I was yanked back. Lucian’s grip was like iron as he dragged me towards a nearby table. I thrashed and kicked, but it was no use; I was overpowered and pinned down with a force that left me breathless.
His hand closed around my throat, applying calculated pressure that forced my head back, my gaze upward.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice choppy due to my ragged breathing and me straining against the steely hold.
“Because it’s fun,” he replied simply, his voice a chilling mix of flippancy and power. “Because I have to. Because I can.”
The mask that obscured his face was ghastly. It was a masterwork of fear with black hollowed eyes and a rictus grin.
“It’s fun? Did you kill that guard for fun, then?” I managed to choke out, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
“Only one,” he replied with a casual cruelty. “That isn’t why I’m here, though.”
In an act that felt almost intimate and entirely terrifying, he leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, the mask's cold surface on my skin.
With a burst of desperate strength, I pushed against him, my movements wild and uncoordinated.
The table shifted, and suddenly I was flipped over, the world turning upside down as I found myself on my stomach, scrambling for leverage, for anything that might give me a chance to escape.
Pinned beneath his weight, my struggles became increasingly futile as he commanded in a low, steady tone, “Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. Not in the way you think.”
His words were a paradox, a cold comfort that failed to ease the panic seizing my every nerve. “What the fuck does that mean?” I spat out, fear lacing my voice with an edge. “Let me go!”
He remained unmoved, his weight a constant pressure. “I can't do that,” he said, almost apologetically.
“Don't you remember what I told you the last time we were alone? Did you read my note? Did you understand my gift?”
His questions spiraled around me, each one punctuated by the reality of my helplessness. The note, the promise as he’d held me, the gruesome 'gift'—they were all pieces of a puzzle I was still scrambling to assemble. There was a narrative he had crafted with meticulous care.
“What promise do you want from me?”
“All of them,” he replied, his voice a low murmur. “But there's one in particular...” Trailing off, he shifted, leaning over me with a predator's grace. His fingers found my hand, turning it palm-side up to reveal the faded scar from our childhood oath.
A hollow laugh escaped me, tinged with disbelief. “You can't be serious.”
“Did you ever wonder why,” he pressed down, his touch light but insistent, “I cut you deep enough to leave a mark?”
“This …this can't be real,” I whispered, the absurdity of it all threatening to overwhelm me.
“It is real,” he assured me, a hint of something indefinable in his voice. “More than you know. All you need to do is make a choice—the correct one—and we can put this night behind us.”
His words, instead of offering solace, ignited a spark of anger within me. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the reality of my situation—the betrayal, the fear—washing over me.
He must have felt the change in me because he softened, his hand moving to cradle the back of my neck. “Seeing you like this…it tears me apart,” he murmured, his voice closer now, his breath warm against my skin. “It makes me want to destroy whoever is responsible. Since I can’t tear myself apart, I’ll have to find another outlet.”
It was clear to me that he only saw one path forward, one resolution, where my choices weren’t truly my own.
“What about Mara?” The question tumbled out, laced with concern. I couldn't bring myself to inquire about Liam. If this was him calm, that would likely push him completely over the edge.
He paused, a momentary silence that was heavy with unspoken thoughts. “She might still be alive,” he finally answered, his tone measured. “It depends.”