Page 9 of Lethal Weakness

Disguised behind a black balaclava.

My heart heaves against my chest cavity as the small glimpse I have disappears in front of me.

The shadows return to pure blackness.

He’s gone.

But who..?

The mask only exposed a small strip of his eyes, and nothing else about the unknown identity.

Maybe he was security. The Scotts always have this place buzzing with security guards because they’re so wealthy and they don’t want anyone to forget it.

That’s it.

Has to be. Because what else makes sense?

Chapter Four

O’Connor

Iknew my new neighbors were going to be a fucking problem.

My targets shift in and out of focus as I remain motionless in the shadows. People at parties don’t pay attention to what is happening on the outskirts. They’re trained to ignore everything that makes a party function. Wait staff, caterers, bartenders. The nobodies.

They dress in their fancy clothes and finest jewels because they like being ogled by their peers, but they don’t care who else is watching.

My targets split off from one another on the terrace, but I know they won’t stray far from each other.

My breathing stays neutral as my eyes scan the area, keeping everything in view, not focusing on any location for too long. When a particular color of blonde catches my attention, I huff silently in annoyance.

The little neighbor, Avery Scott, is dancing towards the swimming pool. She’s too young to know that she’s behaving out of the norm at a social gathering. Rarely does anyone break away from the pack of people they’re trying to impress.

But little Avery keeps advancing to the pool, only stopping to admire the glass surface. I’d imagine this pool hasn’t been anything but a decoration for a long time. It’s a show of wealth, not pleasure.

I ignore her, continuing to scan the terrace for my real target, until soft taps bring me back to her sparkly shoes, toeing the edge of the stairs.

God dammit. Does she even know how to swim?

This child is not my concern.

Where is her mother?

As if I spoke the words out loud, I see the other familiar head of hair weaving in and out of the guests on the far side of the patio.

She looks different tonight. The hair that usually hangs wildly past her shoulders is pinned up against her head. Her bangs are curled off her face, and her makeup is dark.

She’s wearing a mask tonight just like I am.

Avery’s little shoe dances on the surface of the water, not submerging, just causing a cascade of ripples across the blue honey hole.

Her body jerks as her hand slips an inch down the metal rail, but she rights herself quickly before giggling.

A canary’s song dances through the air, mixing with her laughter and catching her attention. I purse my lips, silencing my whistle as she searches the sky.

Her blonde hair whips around as she investigates the pretty bird song, bouncing on her tiptoes around the pool like a little fairy, making me grit my teeth.

I knew whistling would get her attention away from the water, but the last thing I need is for her to come into the garden.