Page 45 of The Villain We Tempt

Who he is.

What he wants from me.

If he’s dangerous.

I mean legit dangerous. Yeah, he could be just one more guy who fell into making MaskTok content to stroke his ego or impress girls.

…Present companyvery muchincluded.

But what if it's all to hide something truly dark and monstrous? What if it isn't so much “act like a masked psycho to charm the girl” as it is “charm the girl so she doesn’t realize the mask is coveringan actual psycho”?

“My friends know where I am.”

I cringe at how nervously the words tumble from my lips. They were supposed to come out cool and confident.

The Ghost Prince says nothing.

“Did you hear me?” I snap. “People know I’m?—”

“No, they don’t.”

Fear licks over my nerve endings as my spine snaps straight.

“Nobodyknows you’re here, do they, little villain?”

A shaky breath ghosts over my slightly parted lips.

He’s right.

No one knows.

But what the fuck was I supposed to say? Hey, Arianna, how’s your night? Oh, just so you know, I’m going to this abandoned building out on the darkest, sketchiest, most deserted pier in the harbor to meet a masked dude whose real identity I don’t know, not even a little. But don’t worry, I met him onthe internet.

I mean for fuck’s sake, where do I sign the release for the future true crime documentary they’ll make about this very night? God, I hope they get an actual redhead to play me, not some annoying hack with a shitty wig or a dye?—

“Breathe, little villain.”

That deep, masculine, modulated voice rips me out of my spiral. I blink, and then slowly realize my mouth is pressed to a thin line and my lungs are burning.

I exhale in a rush, then suck in a breath of cool, fresh air.

“If I was going to hurt you…”

My breath catches sharply as the words tumble from his voice scrambler.

“…I would have done so already.”

The words hang in the air for a second. My lungs start to burn again.

“Why don’t we skip to the part where I no longer have to remind you to keep breathing.”

I let loose another shaky, sudden exhale.

“Were you under the impression that the video from the other night is sitting there on that phone?” He nods past me at the tripod.

I cringe internally. When he says it out loud, it sounds completely idiotic.

Of course it’s not. Ofcoursehe’s got it on a hard drive or up in the cloud somewhere. It's a moot point, anyway. It’s abundantly clear now that this whole thing was a setup.