CHAPTER ONE
GRACE
I clutchmy purse to my chest, staring down at my traitorous feet planted firmly on the ground. The autumn wind sneaks between the gaps in my coat and under my skin, chilling me to the bone. But no matter how much I want to, I can’t move.
“Don’t do it.” I order my legs to move, to take my advice. “Do not fucking do it...”
A streetlamp flickers above, the gentle hum of electricity lulling me into a false sense of security. The inviting orange glow casts elongated shadows over the cracked sidewalk, and I’m reminded of the late hour—the danger of walking alone at this time of night.
I’ve heard the stories, the whispers. Seen the bodies on the news. A new serial killer is on the loose, and he’s more vicious than any in recorded Moriton history.
Red 7.
I shudder as another cool breeze whips through and tug my coat tighter around me. I refuse to end up as Red 7’s newest victim just because I’m stupid enough to stop and save a trapped animal.
“Best to keep it moving,” I mutter under my breath. “It will probably be fine.”
But even as I say it, I can hear the beast wailing. Its anguished cries pierce through the silence like gunshots, the sound clawing at my heart and bringing tears to my eyes.
I turn my head, staring into the darkened alleyway, attempting to see how far back the animal is located. I aim the flashlight on my phone farther in, but the shadows swallow the light with ease.
I curse, pushing my phone into my pocket. If only I hadn’t stayed late at work to finish those forms, I could have caught the bus home, and I wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament.
And the poor creature would have no one to save it…
I pull my shoulders back and take a quick look around at my surroundings, making sure I’m truly alone. Satisfied, but still wary, I step into the mouth of the alley, shivering as the darkness encroaches from all sides.
I let the animal's cries guide me to its location, my steps light and quick as I race to the end of the back street. Near one of the trash bins lies a writhing gray raccoon, teeth and claws ripping at the metal wire attached to its hind leg while it screams its anguish to the skies.
“It’s okay, little guy. I’m here to help.” I shrug out of my jacket, gritting my teeth as the cold skitters across my bare arms.
Stepping slowly toward the raccoon, I throw my jacket over its head, which seems to calm it for a few moments—that, or it's so scared it froze in terror. Either way, it gives me the chance to secure his head while I carefully work to undo the metal wire digging into its back foot.
After a few moments, my work is done. Not wanting to risk catching rabies, I leave my coat with the raccoon and jump back out of biting distance. The animal shakes off the jacket, turning its head to sniff at its injured back foot.
It fixes me with beady black eyes before promptly turning and scurrying off into the shadows. I frown, noticing it movedwith a slight limp. But there’s nothing more I can do now except hope it will fix itself in time.
Shivering, I wrap my arms around my torso, casting a longing glance toward my discarded jacket. “Great thinking, Grace. Now you have to choose between a flea-covered jacket or possible hypothermia...”
Sighing, I reach down to retrieve the article of clothing, but freeze halfway when male voices echo from the mouth of the alley. I jerk my head up, my eyes widening as I take in the silhouettes of three hooded figures stalking toward me. Their eyes are bright and smiles filled with malice, and I can tell at a glance that they mean to do harm tonight.
And there’s nowhere for me to run.
I laugh at the irony. Here I was worried about running into Red 7, never thinking of the other monsters who prowl the streets of Moriton at night.
With little else to do, I take a page out of the raccoon's book and scurry behind one of the dumpsters, crouching down in the shadows and praying they’ll leave before I’m spotted.
“What’s this?” One man stoops to pick up my discarded jacket. He brings it to his face, taking a deep inhale as his eyes scour the shadows. “You left your coat, miss! You should come out and get it, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Shit. There goes hoping they didn’t see me.
I peek out over the corner of the bin, frantic eyes taking in the mens’ faces. The one holding my jacket sports a bright orange Moriton University sweatshirt, with short blond hair peeking out from under his hood. The one on the left is the shortest of the bunch, with a stocky build and thinning light brown hair to match his shit-colored eyes.
The third man, I recognize. I’ve never interacted with him personally, but I’ve seen his face on the news enough times to recognize the youngest son of Moriton’s mayor.
Brenden Cooper stands armed with a cruel smile and a switchblade, his dark-brown hair plastered to his scalp with a heavy coat of gel. Brenden Cooper, the mayor’s youngest son.
“Come out and play, baby!” Brenden’s voice is sickly sweet despite the large blade clutched in his grip. “It’ll be worse for you if you make us come looking.”
