“Lenore,” he says, staring deep into my eyes, and my name sounds like silk on his lips, and I hate that it makes me feel that way. I hate this man, hate what he’s going to do to me, hate that he’s going to take me away from everything I know and love, hate that he’s going to ruin me first before he deprives me of life.
He’s frowning again, eyes rapidly searching mine. He doesn’t ever seem to blink. “Curious girl, aren’t you? You hate me. I know that much.”
Good, I think. I’m glad he can feel it.
His grip on the back of my neck tightens, making my body stiffen. I feel like he could crush my vertebrae with a simple twitch of his hands.
He leans in closer, his eyes inches away until they’re all I see, and I see myself reflected in them, so helpless and small. “And yet, I don’t know how you do. You should love me, Lenore. So many people do. Stupid, weak-minded people, but still. Your body has given up, but your mind hasn’t. Your soul hasn’t. That’s some resolve. That’s…rare.”
Then he gives me another half-smile, pulling back a few inches, looking me over, gaze pausing at my chest. He reaches out and takes hold of the necklaces in his palm. “These don’t help.”
Swiftly, he yanks at the necklaces until they all snap, even the thickest chains. I watch in horror as he tosses them, including my black skull, to the floor of the car.
All girls need protection, Lenore.
Then he grabs my hands, pulling my rings off my fingers, wincing as he does so, as if the rings are causing him pain more than me, and throws them on the floor as well.
“There,” he says, peering at me intently. “How about now? Do you still hate me?”
I’ll hate you until my last breath, I tell him in my head.
His lip curls up and he looks over his shoulder and out of the car at Ezra. “She’s…a little more than we bargained for.”
That surprises me. I haven’t done anything, just sat here like a fucking puppet as he’s positioned me, ripped my beloved jewelry from me.
“What about her tattoos?” Ezra asks.
OH MY GOD.
Please don’t tell me he’s going to cut them out of me.
“We’ll see what happens,” the stalker says. He looks back to me, reading the expression of horror on my face. “I’d tell you not to worry, but we both know that would be a lie.”
He comes back in the car, prowling toward me, and whatever mild amusement I saw in his eyes earlier has now been replaced by something dark and dangerous. Hunter and the prey.
All the small talk is over.
I close my eyes, trying to find strength.
I wish I could borrow it from the moon, hidden somewhere above the fog.
I wish I could be above the fog, rise right through this car, float through the mist, going up and up and up, leaving all the terror and horror and fear behind until I find peace. I can almost see it like it’s happening, like I’m really up there, staring down at the treetops piercing the blanket of mist, the way it stretches all the way across the water, the tips of the Bay Bridge and the Transamerica Pyramid poking through.
I raise my head back to that sky, to those stars, to that moon, a nearly full moon, and I feel my blood singing to it, the moonlight singing back.
Then I’m dropping, fast, falling through the air, down, down, down, until I’m back in the car.
Back in my reality.
I open my eyes and look at the man who wants to kill me.
He flinches when he meets my gaze, like he’s not even seeing me anymore.
Words of surprise dance on his pretty lips but I give him no time to say them.
Without thinking, I lean back, able to move again, and get just enough momentum to kick out.
I smash my boot right into his face, feeling his nose crunch underneath my sole, and then he’s crying out, stumbling backward, blood spilling.