Page 259 of Trick or Stalk

My jaw tightens. “No.”

Wilder swears quietly. He knows what everything means.

Presley knows about the mask.

She knows I watched her. That I chased her. Touched her. Stood beside her and pretended the man stalking her was someone else.

She doesn't know about the house we left behind.

Our stepfather.

The basement.

The blood.

The body.

She doesn't know the worst thing I've ever done.

And somehow, for the first time in my life, killing that bastard isn't the thing that makes me feel like a monster.

It's the look on Presley's face.

“You should've told her,” Wilder says quietly.

My head turns.

He doesn't flinch.

“I know.”

“I told you this was going to blow up.”

“I know.”

“You made me wear the fucking mask twice.”

My hands curl into fists. “I fucking know!”

His expression changes. Some of the anger leaves it.

“Hades.”

I stand there, trying to regain my composure.

“What?”

“You agreeing with me is freaking me the fuck out.”

A laugh almost escapes me. Almost.

It dies somewhere in my chest.

Wilder looks toward the driveway. “She really told you not to follow her?”

“Yeah.”

“And you're not going to?”