Page 206 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

I closed my eyes.

Elias… Please. Find the women. Find me before they move us. Before...

The thought refused to finish itself. Some stories don't like saying their endings out loud.

Only then did I let my head hang and closed my eyes, the tears finally breaking through my lashes to mix with the well-water on my apron string. Every breath I took scraped through my ribs like a broken piece of glass. At least three of them were cracked. Possibly broken. The knife cuts along my forearm from the initial struggle burned like fire under the wet fabric, and my fingers had gone completely numb beneath the restriction of the rope, my body shivering violently in the dark room.

I opened my one clear eye, looking back at the empty space behind my shoulder, a weak, broken whisper leaving my teeth.

"This..." I murmured into the quiet,

"...would make an absolutely excellent chapter for Joey, wouldn't it? They always say... write what you experience. Collect the raw data. I suppose... I’m just doing my research for the next book."

Footsteps.

Again. Not from the back exit. From the side corridor near the old boiler room. Slow. Measured. Vain.

I sighed, my shoulders pulling inward as a long shadow began to crawl across the concrete toward my bare ankles.

"Oh... for the love of all things holy. Not again. The pacing of this act is completely exhausting."

The long shadow stretched across the concrete until it reached my bare feet. It stopped. Then the owner stepped into the yellow light. Still smiling. Still wearing that perfectly pressed uniform. He crouched in front of me. Not close enough for comfort. Close enough to enjoy it.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he whispered.

His voice was almost gentle.

"You aren't so clever now...are you, Miss Calloway?"

His fingers wrapped around my chin, forcing my face upward. My bruised jaw screamed. I smiled anyway.

"Oh..."

Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth onto the polished leather of his boot.

"I bruised your ego...didn't I?"

His smile vanished.

"Did the little quarterback never learn that popularity expires after graduation?"

His jaw tightened.

"Or...does it still bother you...that Detective Reed never trusted you enough to let you sit at the grown-ups' table?"

For a second… Something cracked behind his eyes. Not anger. Something uglier. Hatred. Real hatred. His hand shot to my throat. Fingers like steel. My airway disappeared beneath the crushing pressure.

"Fuck."

His voice shook now.

"YOU. Seraphina."

My vision exploded into stars.

"You think you're funny?"

His grip tightened.