Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Loud thumping rumbles through my apartment, and my eyes spring open again, reminding me that someone is at the door, and I groan, throwing my blanket back. It’s probably Izzy coming to tell me all about getting railed on her date last night.
I pull myself up to stand, needing to brace my hand against the mattress as I get up, and as I walk through my small apartment, I can’t help but notice that the pain from the surgery isn’t so bad this morning. Or perhaps my heartbreak outweighs the agony of being jumped in a back alley, drowning it out.
Just my luck, right?
Making it out of my bedroom and into the living room, I beeline straight for the door, and as I reach for the bolts and chains locking me in, I realize that during my sob-fest last night, I didn’t even remember to lock the door.
How fucking stupid could I be? Though if my stalker had actually shown up and taken me out, I probably would have thanked him for making the pain stop. Knowing my luck, I probably would have taken the agony right into the afterlife with me like a badge of dishonor, doomed to wallow in everything Knight Slater for all eternity.
Taking the door handle, I give a quick twist before yanking it open, fully expecting to find Izzy. Only as I stand in the open doorway, I stare up at a face I never thought I’d see again.
I suck in a breath, shaking my head, my body going weak with every passing second. “No,” I breathe, my brows pinching together as my heart starts to race. It’s not possible. This can’t be happening.
“Holy fuck, tiger. You look like shit,” Laith says, staring at me with deep concern. “Why are your eyes all red and puffy like that? Have you been crying?”
“No, you’re . . . You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Dead? What the fuck meds did they put you on? Are you good, babe?”
He goes to reach for me, his palm aimed toward my forehead, and I spring back out of the way, fear gripping me in a chokehold. “Don’t touch me!”
Laith immediately pulls back, looking at me as though I’m the one who’s lost her mind, and all I can do is stare right back, my eyes wide as unease pounds through my veins.
How is he here? I did his autopsy. I cut the clothes off his body and cried against his chest, grieving for my lost friend. That agony and loss was too real to have imagined it, and yet, here he is, standing before me as though not a damn thing happened.
Laith looks at me as though he’s staring at a ghost, but truth be told, I’m the one staring at a ghost. This shouldn’t be real. He shouldn’t be standing here before me in a suit, looking as though he’s about to take his ass off to work.
“Woah, tiger. Calm down,” he says, inching closer again, his hands up as if to show that he means me no harm, but that’s not even close to what’s got me spooked. “Is everything okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”
I shake my head, unable to make sense of what the hell is going on. How could he be here like this, standing before me as though he didn’t just die last week? As though I didn’t feel the chill of his dead body. As though I didn’t close up the body bag and slide him into locker thirty-six.
No. Is Knight right? Have I imagined all of this? Have I worked up some elaborate story in my head? No, it’s not possible. I felt his cool, dead body beneath my fingers. Felt the sharp bite of my stalker’s blade as it cut into my skin. The word left on my ribs is proof of it. So how the hell is Laith here? Has this just been some big, sick joke?
“No,” I tell Laith, putting my hand up to stop him coming into my apartment. “You’re not real. You can’t be here. I saw . . . I saw your body.”
“What?” he says, his face scrunched with confusion. “Babe, what’s going on? I just came to check on you. You’ve been acting weird, and I’ve been trying to give you space to figure out your shit with this new guy, but now you’re being all flirty in your texts again, telling me you wanted to see me, so I figured that was over. I just . . . Are you good?”
I can barely make out the words falling from his mouth as my mind takes me away, swirling with endless possibilities. Laith is dead. I know it with every fiber of my soul, but this person in my doorway . . .
Is this my stalker? Is this him beneath the mask?