Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 160041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Fuck.
Her scent alone makes my cock harden in my pants, and I groan out loud from the sheer pleasure of being so close to her even though she isn’t even in this goddamn room.
I’ll remember this.
I get up from the floor and search her room, opening every drawer, her closet, and every box, turning everything inside out, until I finally find a locked drawer.
I pull out my wallet and take out the pick I always carry with me. Courtesy of Ivy—Max, Silas, and Heath’s girlfriend—who gave it to me as a birthday gift, because she no longer needed it. She didn’t tell me why she had one to begin with, but judging from the stories Aspen tells, I’m pretty sure Ivy was once a certified thief.
Not that it’s any of my business.
I push the pick into the drawer and mess about with it as sweat drops down my neck.
CLICK!
That was easier than I imagined it would be.
I pull open the drawer and discover an old phone from the early 2010s.
That’s odd.
I take it out of the drawer and open it up, but of course there’s a lock on it. Facial recognition. Goddammit.
I pull out my own phone and scroll through my images until I find one of the photos I took of Sunny when she didn’t notice me, like a true stalker. I hold it in front of the phone.
ERROR.
My adrenaline spikes as I search for another image. There’s gotta be a way to get into this phone. I hold it up again.
ERROR.
I look around her room. Doesn’t she have a photo of herself somewhere that could work?
There’s a printer on her desk, though, and it’s giving me the craziest idea.
What if…
I connect my phone to the printer via Bluetooth, send the image, and wait for it to print. I hold the image up to her phone.
The screen opens, and a massive smile forms on my face.
It worked. It actually worked.
I immediately open the phone’s contact directory, send the records to my own phone, then erase the message. I do the same with her notes and all the images she took until I have a vast collection of everything. But the one thing that makes me pause is the list I find hidden deep within her phone … and each person she intends to kill.
A hit list.
Several names have already been crossed off.
This must be the two men she targeted in the warehouse and the shop.
So many people are on this list. Why does she want them dead?
THWACK!
A door was just slammed shut somewhere in the Delta Nu house, and my ears fixate on the sound.
No time. Gotta run.
I stuff everything back into my pocket, then shove the phone back into the drawer. There’s no time to close it, so I have no choice but to bolt toward the window and pray she forgot she closed it in the first place.
The second I crawl out the window and jump onto the fire escape, her door bursts open.
“Fuck!” she yells.
Sweat drops roll down my back as I crawl down the steps while trying to make as little noise as possible.
“Why is that goddamn scaredy-cat not in his room?” she yells. “Where the fuck else would he be?”
Is she … talking about me?
I swallow away the lump in my throat as I keep climbing down without trying to alert her. One wrong move and I’m a goner.
I take another step, then a drawer is yanked open.
Shit.
“What the…?”
No time left.
I zip down the remaining steps without caring about the noise I make, then bolt off.
Right then, she sticks her head out the window. “Who’s there? I’ll fucking kill you!”
Fuck, she’s so damn spicy.
I love it.
I don’t sleep at all that night.
My mind still reels with all the possibilities, all the ways that little reconnaissance could’ve gone wrong, and all the things I wished I could’ve done if I had the goddamn balls to stay.
But God, just being near her makes my heart nearly beat out of my chest.
It’s a good thing I’m used to high-energy life with my crazy family.
I get up, yawn, and put on some clothes, then waltz down the eerily lit staircase. The party yesterday left quite a mess, as the main hall where we normally eat is littered with bottles of liquor, spilled drinks on the purple walls, pills, and raunchy underwear scattered on the wooden floors. Even the erotic paintings and statues lining the walls have been defiled, as usual. The maids will clean it up.
The Tartarus parties surely live up to their reputation alright. That stuff looks like it came right out of a porno. That’s why I rarely, if ever, attend them. It’s just not for me, all that fucking in public. The only reason I joined them recently is because of the protection they offer. That, and the amazing living quarters. Every member gets a huge room all to themselves, and the giant rose maze in the backyard is the perfect place to study, with plenty of benches.