Page 11 of Unmasking My Dark Knight

As I walked back to my hiding spot, I noticed a woman coming out from one of the haunted houses. She was taking a deep breath, and she looked like she had just recovered from getting scared inside. Perfect. She didn’t even see me running out of the fog, sprinting in her direction as I slid to my knees, growling out from the shadows and into her space. She let out a blood-curdling scream, her feet moving faster than what her mind looked like it could handle, taking her in the opposite direction.

Right into the woods. Right into a ditch. Fuck.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered to myself, sprinting to where she fell, sliding a little down a small slope.

“Hey!” I called out. “You okay?”

“Ew!” I heard her screech, and I finally got down to her, and I’d recognize her anywhere—Ivy Jade. Gustav’s little sister, four or five years younger than us. Except she wasn’t little anymore. She had those same stinging brown eyes I grew up with, undeniably large and shocked. She lay motionless in a bush, her long brown hair pulled up in a red ribbon, her dress hitched up to her thigh from the tumble she took.

She looked so grown up.

And pissed off.

“Get away from me!” she cried out. She began to lift herself, but slipped again, falling straight on her ass.

“Hey, hey,” I said softly. “It’s okay. Let me help you,” I offered, holding my hand out palm up.

She looked up at me, then at my hand, then back up to me. Her widened, frightened eyes slowly turned suspicious.

“No, thanks. I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much,” she huffed, slowly rising to her feet. “Besides, your gloves look like they have dirt all over them. It’s gross”

“No different than your dress,” I quipped back.

“Actually very different!”

“How so?”

“Are your gloves designer? Because this dress is! It’s Persian, you clown!” she gawked, looking down at the muddy mess that covered the most delicate cream colored fabric I’d ever seen. I didn’t want to smile, but I did. She may have grown, but she was the same spoiled-sounding little brat that I’d spent summers listening to, arguing with Gustav.

"Suit yourself, Princess," I said, arching a brow.

"Excuse me?" she snipped. "Princess?"

I just shrugged—poor little rich girl. I was used to this by now with Megan, but I had a history with Ivy Jade, given how we grew up together. She didn't even seem to notice me yet, clueless as ever.

My eyes couldn’t help but trail up and down her body, still unable to wrap my mind around seeing her again. She was so different from what I would’ve imagined, but then again, I never really imagined Ivy Jade as anything other than a little girl. She used to have braces, and her face was round, like a cute little moon. Now she looked like a diamond, something chiseled and refined, her cheekbones high and flushed, her lips soft and pouting. It was strange, and I felt self-conscious as I unintentionally looked at her legs. There was a scrape along her knee.

“You took quite the fall,” I said with a hint of humor in my voice.

She scoffed a little, letting her eyes roam over me.

“Well, a scary, maniacal clown was chasing right after me! So thanks for that,” she said as she dusted herself off. “Ugh, my heel broke. Great, just what I needed tonight.”

I nodded, smiling a little bit. “I’m sorry. Really. I’d never want anyone to get hurt because of me,” I explained, and I kept eyeing her, wondering if, or ever, she would finally realize who I was.

She shrugged, straightening herself out a little bit. “Can we, like, get out of this ditch? It’s creeping me out!” She held out her hand daintily, as if I were supposed to take it and bow to her or something.

“Well?” she asked, her eyebrows raised expectantly, standing there unbalanced with a broken heel.

I chuckled a little. This girl had never done a thing for herself in a day in her life. I took her hand and gently led her back up to the pavement. She pulled her hand away, instantly adjusting her little cardigan sweater. She rested her weight on the foot with the broken heel, and she swung her small purse over her shoulder as she ran a hand through the length of her hair.

“Let me take you to the first aid station to get you checked out. It’s just down this way,” I said, turning my body to lead the way. “And I’m sure there’s a pair of shoes we can find for you so you don’t fall into another ditch.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She hesitated, flipping her hair a little bit.

“You’re hurt, though.”

“I’ll survive…”