Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Her hand tightens around mine, but she manages to continue mirroring my breaths.
Suddenly, our course mates surround us.
“We got the news too,” a boy with curly red hair, Colin, says thickly.
“Professor Hirst dismissed us,” another boy, Samuel, informs us. “We’re going to the pub.”
“What?” I ask.
It seems wholly inappropriate to go out drinking right now.
“I need a fucking pint.” Colin rubs a hand over his shining eyes.
I look around at my classmates and realize many of them are on the verge of tears or are openly crying. They need to be together right now. The pub is a place for them to gather and support one another.
“Okay,” I agree.
Even though it’s not like me to let people in emotionally, I can see that this is necessary. I don’t have to lean on their shoulders and cry, but I can be there for them.
Especially Amala, who looks like she might be sick at any moment. She’s been kind to me, even though I barely know her.
I’ve dealt with the deaths of my peers before. I can endure her fresh pain to help her navigate this grief.
A flash of that night in the ruined stables assails my thoughts, and I quickly shove the bloody memories away. Now isn’t the time to spiral into my own nightmares.
Amala extricates her hand from mine to wipe her eyes.
“Here,” she says, offering my phone. I didn’t realize she was still holding it. “I think you got a message.”
I check the screen. The new message notification looks odd. There aren’t any contact details listed, not even a phone number that I haven’t saved.
Acting on autopilot, I tap the message.
My knees fold again when it fills my screen, and my butt hits the bench.
Anonymous
I killed him for you. Rich wasn’t worthy of you. He’ll never touch you again.
Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I’m not breathing.
I can’t process it.
“Lena? What is it?” I’m only dimly aware of Amala’s question.
I can’t answer. I can’t accept what’s happening. Voicing it out loud will make it real.
“Miss Williams.”
A masculine hand touches my shoulder. I yelp in alarm and jerk away. My phone drops from my chilled fingers, clattering to the ground.
“You forgot your bag,” Professor Hirst says gently.
Then he bends down to pick up my phone. He glances at the screen.
My stomach drops when his cleanshaven jaw ticks.
He’s seen the message.
He knows someone is watching me. Someone killed for me.
Rich’s death is my fault, and my safe new life is crumbling around me.
Professor Hirst tucks my phone into his pocket. “Come with me, Lena.”
13
RAND
I’ve always been good at hiding my emotions, and that skill has never been more vital than it is right now. I’m not wearing my skull mask, and Karolina is close enough that I can smell her rose and peony scent. If I slip up for even a moment, I could ruin everything.
I have to earn her trust. She can’t suspect that I’m the one who killed Rich; I’m the one who texted her about his unworthiness.
It was very convenient that his body was discovered at such an opportune time. I was able to send the message when all of her classmates left the building shortly after she stormed out. Having the excuse to return her forgotten bag was another stroke of luck.
But if it’s going so well, why is my stomach in knots?
The sight of her distress causes me physical pain.
I harden my resolve. She’s scared, but I’m here to comfort her.
She will accept my protection.
She’ll accept the fact that I already own her, body and soul.
We’re meant to be together.
“I should join the others at the pub,” she asserts when I close my office door behind us, as though the soft thumping sound has jolted her out of a daze.
I pause, staring down at her. I maintain direct eye contact for longer than appropriate for a professor and his student, but I don’t relent.
She swallows hard, but she doesn’t break from my gaze.
That’s my brave Karolina.
“Sit,” I command, gesturing at the chair across from my desk.
Her shoulders stiffen, but she complies. She doesn’t like being bossed around, but she’s flustered enough by the shocking turn of events that she doesn’t sass me.
I round my desk and settle into my chair. I place her phone between us so that she has no choice but to acknowledge the “stalker’s” message.
“Who sent this?” I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
It’s too soon to act possessive and fiercely protective, even if that’s how I always feel about her.
Besides, I know there’s not a real threat. I’m her stalker, and I would never harm Karolina.
Her light green eyes flick to the phone and back to me. Her cheeks are too pale, but she’s not on the verge of tears. She’s stronger than that.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “There aren’t any contact details.”