Page 59 of Ghosted

I laugh, low and dark. “Careful, ghost girl. Keep holding on like that, and I’m going to start thinking you don’t want me to let you go.”

Her eyes narrow. “Maybe I’m waiting for the right time to knee you.”

“Cute.” I lean back just enough to look at her. “Want me to count down for you?”

Despite herself, her mouth twitches.

There.

That tiny crack in the anger.

That little flash of fuck you and come closer wearing the same face.

I drag my gaze over her slowly, letting her feel every second of it. “You’re terrible at pretending you don’t like this.”

“And you’re terrible at pretending you’re not a psychopath.”

“I’m not pretending.”

Her breath stutters.

My smile turns sharp behind the mask.

“Your turn.”

Her expression shifts, just a little. The anger stays because Alice likes having armor, but beneath it, curiosity flickers hot and stupid and honest.

I tilt my head, watching her through the black mesh. “Go on, ghost girl. Ruin my night.”

Alice holds my stare through the mask, breathing hard, rain sliding down her cheeks and dripping from her lashes. Her jacket has fallen open from the chase, one side slipping off her shoulder, her shirt wet and stretched against her, pulled low enough to show the soft curve of skin beneath all that black.

She catches me looking and lifts her chin. “Eyes are up here, asshole.”

“I know where your eyes are.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

My mouth curves behind the mask. “I’m looking at what you’re pretending you didn’t mean to show me.”

Her glare sharpens, but her fingers tighten in my hoodie instead of pushing me away. That’s the thing about Alice. Her mouth lies first. Her hands take longer to catch up.

I keep her against the tree with one hand and slide the other into my pocket.

Her eyes drop immediately.

Smart girl.

The karambit comes out smooth and quiet, curved black metal catching what little light the rain leaves behind. Alice goes still the second she sees it.

The fear hits her clean.

I see it in the way her eyes lock on the blade, in the way her fingers tighten in my hoodie, in the sharp little pause between one breath and the next, but she doesn’t say a word.

Her mouth lies too fast anyway.

I keep her pinned with one hand at her waist and let the karambit sit between us for a second, curved and black and wet with rain. Alice watches it like she’s trying to decide whether she wants to slap it out of my hand or lean closer just to prove she isn’t scared.

Her pretty little body already decided for her.