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His face hardens into an alarming mask of absolute, unadulterated fury. The dark charm evaporates, replaced by a cold, predatory rage that makes the hair on my arms stand straight up.

His gaze pierces me, eyes ablaze with an intense, chilling force that roots me to the driver’s seat.

He leans right into my space, his voice dropping into a register so dark, so low, so brutally ominous it vibrates through my bones.

“I don’t like liars, Harmony.”

The words hang in the freezing cabin like a death sentence.

The glowing outline of Blackwood shines brightly through the windshield ahead, throwing a jagged flicker of light that dances across his furious expression.

My heart stutters.

A sense of dread has replaced the thrill; I’m now acutely aware of my predicament: trapped in a car hurtling down a lonely road alongside a man who knows exactly who I am—and for some reason seems to hate me for it.

Four

Your Shadow in the Dark

RYDER

7:15 PM

Iwas friendly to everyone. I always looked out for the little guy.

Her lie resonates deep within me, like volcanic ash causing utter destruction.

Inside my chest, something ancient and ugly snaps tight.

A white-hot surge of fury floods my veins, so sharp and violent it makes my jaw ache from grinding my teeth together.

My fists clench in my lap, the thick denim of my jeans stretching as my fists press hard into my thighs.

I want to reach across the console, wrap my hands around that delicate neck, and squeeze until the polite, perfect mask shatters into dust. I want to hurt her. To tear down the soft, innocent facade she wears and force her to face the hideous truth underneath.

Instead, I hold my tongue, letting the cold silence extend until the air in the cabin turns brittle.

Beside me, Harmony’s golden skin has gone pale.

The mischievous, flirtatious gleam in those amber eyes vanishes at once, overtaken by a sharp spike of genuine panic.

Her gaze stays fixed on the road ahead as she chews on the inside of her cheek, yet I notice the quick, irregular throb of her pulse in her neck. All telltale signs she’s hiding something.

Or she’s terrified.

Good. I hope it’s the latter.

“I don’t like liars, Harmony,” I say again, letting the words drag out low, carrying all the weight of the blood and dirt buried along this highway.

She swallows hard, trying to regain her composure, trying to pull that polished armor back around herself.

“I’m not lying. You asked me what kind of person I was, and I told you. You don’t even know me, Ryder,” she murmurs, though her voice lacks its previous bite.

I know you better than you think.

My eyes track the slight tremor in her hands.

I’ve spent fifteen years studying her. Fifteen years obsessing over the contrast between her breathtaking beauty and the rot hidden inside her soul. I’ve stared at pictures of her for hours, memorized her schedule, tracked her movements, and dreamed of the day I’d get her cornered in a space she couldn’t escape from.