I follow her field of vision and freeze, too. Coming down the stairs are two members of the Heathens.
Gareth Carson and Jeremy Volkov.
The first looks like a groomed prince with his styled hair, clean-shaven face, and elegant trousers and button-down.
The other looks no different from a monster out of hell.
It’s not about the way he’s dressed, since he’s wearing black slacks, a white T-shirt, and a leather jacket.
It’s everything else.
The messy black hair, the intense, piercing gray eyes, high cheekbones, and the sharp features that translate his insufferable character.
He’s also big in everything. Height, build, and personality. I’ve never seen anyone as muscular as he is, except for maybe Nikolai. But he moves pretty swiftly for a huge guy, silently, too, as if he’s trained to only be noticed whenever he deems it necessary.
Jeremy is considered the dark beauty type. He’s that one person you know is handsome, beyond attractive, but his actions paint him as more monstrous than beautiful.
Destructive.
Unapproachable.
And he seems absolutely content with that image.
But then again, why wouldn’t he? His infamous reputation precedes him and he seems fine with that, too.
In fact, he may actively encourage it.
Gareth nods at something they’re discussing and climbs the stairs. Jeremy, however, continues his casual walk down.
But although he appears nonchalant, there’s nothing arbitrary about him. Not even his strides.
Beneath the calm surface he reflects onto the world lurks danger and nefarious intent. It’s mysterious in nature, almost too well disguised for anyone to see.
The only reason I do is because I have my secrets, too, and I guess that gives me the superpower to recognize it in others.
Mum says I’m able to do that due to my strong connection with my empathy and that was one of the main reasons I followed psychology. I want to help others with anything in my power.
Glyn mumbles something and then runs up the stairs.
I start to follow her, but I’m interrupted by a horde of dancing, drinking, and howling students.
Being invited to a party held by the Heathens is a privilege for TKU students. This is like the mecca of their unholy activities and an expression of deviant youth.
It’s why Ava wanted to come here at all costs.
It’s why Anni helped her, despite being apprehensive about her brother’s wrath.
By the time I get to the stairs, there’s no sign of Glyn.
Blimey.
She might be quiet and keep to herself, but Glyn has these moments where she’ll disappear without notice.
I throw a glance behind me to make sure Ava isn’t getting herself in trouble, but then I catch a glimpse of her hugging a bottle of tequila and sneaking outside.
Goddammit. I need two of me to keep these children in check.
I jog in the direction Ava went. Because A, she’s the one who’s more prone to almost drown in a pool of her own vomit—happened once—or almost drown in an actual pool while drunk—happened twice; and B, Glyn is responsible, doesn’t act on impulse, and rarely gets drunk, if ever.
In theory, the decision to go after the troublemaker of our group is actually a simple one.
I slip past students as they jump and howl to some trendy song. It’s a lot easier to move unnoticed than to shove past them and be delayed further.
The cold night air forms goosebumps on my skin, and I stop outside the mansion’s doors.
More students keep flocking inside the mansion in waves and no one is leaving. Granted, by their standards, it’s still early.
A few guards stand like statues along the entrance, and I’m sure more are hidden out of sight. These must be the same men who wore the bunny masks last night.
I go up on my tiptoes to get a better view of outside, but there’s no sign of that little shit Ava.
I pull out my phone and tap the Find My Child app.
What?She really is a kid when drunk, and I had to install this app to be able to find her in situations like this.
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.
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.
I carry on with my escape, even if the logical part of me knows that if I keep moving at this pace, I’ll eventually collapse and be easy prey.
If I want to preserve my energy, I have to hide—
A loud thud of footsteps rushes up from behind me and I screech to a halt, then whirl around.
My sporadic breathing fills the air, but the only thing in sight is trees.
Big, tall trees with their giant trunks and branches that resemble hungry predators’ fangs.
I don’t stop to ponder the sound as I continue to sprint in the darkness.
In the forest.
In the middle of the night.
Only the moon offers any sort of light, and it’s shadowed by the thick clouds, camouflaged, absolutely distorted.
It’s also stained with the sound of my erratic breathing and the ghost-like steps of the one pursuing me.
Landon.
Though I probably shouldn’t call him that in this situation. He’s supposed to be a stranger right now.
A creature of the night.
A merciless monster.
A devil who’s come to collect my life.
The distinctive sound of feet slapping against the ground fills my ears. It’s the sound I’m making. A sound so deranged and haunted that I hear every crunch against the dirt, every pebble caught beneath my shoes.
It collides with my shattered inhales and nearly chokes my swelling lungs.
But that sound is nothing compared to the steps that appear and disappear, sometimes from behind me, other times from my left, right, and even in front of me.
It injects me with an abundance of adrenaline until I’m surviving on it. I have no doubt that if my level drops, I’ll turn into a shaky mess and fall to the ground.
The threat continues looming over me, getting closer and closer, playing a fucked-up game of hide-and-seek with my mind.
There’s no more powerful tool than mind games. Physical exertion pales in comparison to mental stimuli and that’s why manipulating, gaslighting, and abusing the mind have become the ultimate weapons in modern society.
It feels as if I’m observing a lesson from my psychology classes. Only, theory and practice are worlds apart.
I know that sealing my mind off would protect me, but actually accomplishing that under the current circumstances is next to impossible.
When I study my surroundings again, I realize I’m in a part of the forest I didn’t go to yesterday.
The trees appear taller, sharper, as if they have every intention of devouring me alive. The darkness hovers, lingers, and swallows my whole being.