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…And a figure in a black mask lunges out of the shadows at me, less than ten feet away.
Pure terror explodes through me. Without thinking, I whirl, my eyes locking on the thin film of plastic covering the workers’ entrance to the construction zone.
It’s closer than the end of the hallway.
I turn and bolt through the plastic film, hurtling blindly into the darkness beyond, my pulse thudding in my ears and a monster’s footsteps closing in behind me.
17
FREYA
My heart hammersin my chest frantically, drowning out everything else as my feet pound against the ground.
Shadows stretch long and jagged around me, the skeletal frames of buildings looming like sinister giants in the moonlight. The construction site is a labyrinth of rusted beams and broken glass, and I can barely see through the panic clouding my vision.
But I can hear him behind me.
The masked man with dark violence radiating off him like poison.
I don’t know who he is or why he’s after me. Maybe this is a follow-up to the shooting on Sota’s rooftop. Maybe Iwasthe target, and now they’ve sent him to finish the job.
I can feel him closing in, his presence a shadow that’s seeping into my skin. His heavy footsteps echo behind me, each one a reminder that I’m not far enough ahead of him.
I dart around a pile of debris, my dress catching on a jagged piece of metal. I yank it free, the fabric tearing as I stumbleforward. My body is shaking, fear and adrenaline crashing together in waves, but I don’t stop.
I can’t.
I hear him behind me, closer now. He’s relentless, his pace never slowing. My heart lurches as I glance over my shoulder, seeing him emerging from the shadows—tall, broad, terrifying. The mask he wears conceals everything, even his eyes. There’s just a faceless black void holding the promise of violence.
A predator.
I round a corner, my heart climbing into my throat and my breathing labored.
Too late.
He’s there, waiting for me, as if he knows every step I’ll take before I make it.
His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm in a vice-like grip. I scream, but the sound dies in my throat as he hurls me to the ground with brutal force. The impact knocks the air from my lungs. The rough concrete scrapes against my skin as I try to scramble away, but he’s on me in a second.
His gloved hand grips my ankle, dragging me back to him with terrifying ease. My mind races with a thousand disjointed thoughts, each one darker than the last.
Is this where my life ends?
When he lets go of my ankle, I make one last desperate, pathetic attempt to scramble back. But he slams me down again, his knees planting on either side of my writhing torso, boxing me in, towering over me like a shadow of death.
He’s silent. Not a word, not a sound. Just the clean, methodical movements of a man who’s done this before.
I shudder as his hand shoots out and grabs the front of my dress. He grunts, pulling hard and tearing the fabric with a viciousness that leaves me trembling. The dress falls away, the cool night air biting my exposed skin. He yanks again, shredding and ripping the dress from my torso and my arms, leaving me bare from the waist up except for the black lacy bralette I wore underneath.
He rips that away, too, and now, I don’t think he’s here to kill me.
Not yet.
He’s got something else in mind first.
My brain screams at me to fight, to claw and kick, but fear has me paralyzed. His hands maul my breasts, pinching my nipples and twisting and tugging my piercings mercilessly. A strong hand wraps tight around my neck, and I choke out a cry as he reaches back with his other one.
A sob wrenches from my lips as he shoves my dress up to my waist and thrusts his hand into my panties. He rips the flimsy lace away with a sharp tug that snaps at my skin. I try and close my legs, but he slaps my thighs harshly, shoving them apart as he cups my pussy roughly.
