Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“Fuck off while you can,” Jude says in a hard voice. “I mean it.”
“I thought I couldn’t leave once I’m in.”
“I can ask my father for an exception,” Jude says. “Armstrong will help, right?”
“Gladly,” Preston says. “I don’t want you around.”
“Kane does,” I say, lifting my chin. “And to my understanding, he’s the only one who has a say in my acceptance.”
Preston strokes the chin of his mask, and I can almost see the evil slipping into his eyes. “He won’t after his father learns of his illogical actions.”
“You’d sell out your friend to get rid of me?”
“I’m doing him a favor. I’m sure Kane wouldn’t appreciate a spy in our midst.”
“A spy? For whom?”
“That thug boyfriend of yours.”
“He was never my boyfriend, and why would I spy for him?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out. Soon.”
Jude is about to say something when a member of the staff who’s wearing a half mask approaches us. “Ms. Thorne.”
“Yes?”
“Please follow me.”
I stare at Jude and Preston to try to make out if they’re behind this, but they’re already walking away.
My hand trembles around the flute of champagne. Is this part of the test? Are those two messing with me?
Considering their hostility just now, I doubt they’ll make it easy.
“Ms. Thorne?” the staff member says again, his voice cold but professional.
I carefully abandon my flute of champagne on the table. “Where are we going?”
“Follow me,” he repeats, completely ignoring my question.
My steps are heavy and my heels dig into my skin with every move. Pretty sure I have a blister, and it throbs with an unrelenting pulse. The discomfort mixes with apprehension, and I draw circles on my thumb as I study the long hall adorned with dark-green wallpaper and muted wall lamps.
There are no people nor is there any indication of our destination. The noise from the party slowly fades until it disappears, leaving space for the man’s hushed footsteps and my louder ones.
“Where are you taking me?” My carefully voiced question pierces the silence.
“We’ll arrive soon.”
He doesn’t even acknowledge me as he speaks.
Images from that hellish initiation play in my head on a loop, and I tense up in anticipation of whatever they have planned for me.
At the end of the hall, the man takes a few complicated turns that I can’t keep up with and then unlocks a door and pulls it open. “Please proceed.”
I hesitate, but upon seeing what appears to be a garden, I relax a little and step out.
The door clicks shut behind me, but I pause when I find out that I wasn’t led to a garden, but more like a structure of strategically cut trees and hedges.
I walk for a bit, taking note of the trunks and memorizing the shapes. It’s dark, though, with only a line of light tucked deep between the clouds, so it’s difficult to see.
The cold air clings to my skin, sharp and biting, and I wrap my arms around myself for some semblance of warmth. The night is thick and heavy, pressing in on me from all sides, and the faint rustle of leaves is the only sound in this endless stretch of unsettling silence.
My heels sink into the damp grass with every step, the soft squish beneath me unnerving. The hedges loom tall, twisting and turning, swallowing the path in front of me.
Wait.
Didn’t I just pass by that tree?
I look behind me and freeze.
This isn’t just a quirky garden.
It’s a maze.
I can barely see two feet in front of me. The shadows move as if they’re alive, the moon slipping through the clouds doing little to pierce through the blanket of black that wraps around everything.
My breath fogs the air, mixing with the cold that’s already sinking into my bones. Each step feels heavier than the last, my legs aching, the sharp pinch of my heels digging into my feet and worsening the blisters.
A rustle sounds behind me, but before I can turn, a large body envelops my back.
A cold blade presses against my throat.
My breath freezes and my body jerks, but a strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back. I stumble, the grass slick beneath my heels as I’m yanked into something solid—someone solid.
The air turns thick with danger, and the warmth of his breath skates across the back of my neck until goosebumps erupt on the flesh.
I’m pinned against him, the knife a whisper away from my skin. A strangled cry forms at the back of my throat but refuses to break free as I catch a glimpse of the horrifying black mask with heinous serpentine details.
My pulse thrums, my entire body awakening in response.
His breath is steady, barely a ripple in the air. Each exhale is slow, deliberate, brushing against my skin as if it’s his hand.
It’s warm despite the coldness of everything else around us but also feels like a warning—too quiet, too composed—as if he’s holding back something darker beneath the surface.