Page 5 of Killing Emma

“Oh, how do you know?”

“He showed up here again.”

“Should we look into a restraining order?”

“Uh…” My voice trails off. “I don’t think so. He’s just…He just wants to reconcile. Very badly, apparently.”

“Yeah, but he’s shown up at your house multiple times, Emma. He’s not taking no for an answer, and I don’t like that. Desperation can turn ugly.”

“Hmm.” My eyes flicker to the window, and the lights of the yard illuminate the perfectly cut grass. A blur of something in the trees catches my attention, and my stomach flips. But when I squint to get a better look, there’s nothing there. I shake it off. No more freaking wine. It’s messing with my head.

“Emma, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I am. Sorry. Just got distracted for a moment.” I run my free hand down my bare thigh. I have freckles everywhere, and as I brush my black nails over them, I frown. I’ve never been a fan. I’m the blemished version of a human being. Maybe I should be discounted…

“If you need a night out or just a break, you know I can come pick you up? Take you somewhere nice? As a friend,” he adds quickly. “You’re just not in a good headspace. I’ve known you since we were kids, Emma.”

“I know, but I’m fine.” I hate the fact he always mentions we knew each other as kids. He doesn’t really know me. I don’t think anyone does. Not anymore. I spend my time pretending to be a writer and doing whatever the hell I want—because I have nothing else to do. Granted, I used to volunteer at charities and try to give back…

But now, I don’t even wanna leave the house. I’m a ghost in these walls, and somehow, that’s how I imagine I’ll spend the rest of my days.

“Okay, well, I just want to extend the offer.”

I snap my eyes back from the window. “Thanks, I appreciate it. But really, I think all I need is for the divorce to go through. It’ll be a load off my shoulders.”

“Thirty-six days and it’s finalized without the signature.”

I find it strange he’s keeping up with the exact number of days, but fine. “Yeah, a little over a month.” As the words leave my mouth, I hear a creak that causes me to pause. I’m not ignorant of the noises a house makes…But this…

Something suddenly feels off, and the hair on the back of my neck bristles.

“Anyway, um,” he says. “I was just calling to update you. Have a good night. I’ll let you know if anything changes—and let me know if you ever need anything.”

“Of course,” I say. “Thanks Kyle.” I hang up, though I don’t let go of my phone. I peek out of the open bedroom door, gazing down the hallway. Nothing looks amiss, and the lights are all on. Stop being paranoid.

Sighing, I head toward the staircase. Jared's visiting must have me a little on edge. Not to mention, after Lydia’s disastrous ex-boyfriend stalking her, it did cross my mind that Jared might act psycho, too. But there’s no way Jared would have it in him. Mason always had a temper—and it’s probably what ended him, too. I smile to myself at the thought of that unhinged serial killer tearing him to shreds.

My footsteps are silent across the bamboo flooring, and as I enter the kitchen, I lift my phone to my eyes and consider calling Lydia. She’s probably lost in Henry right now, but she’d answer if I called. She always did. However, before I get the chance, a blast of air hits my face. I shiver and peer through the kitchen. My eyes catch sight of the entryway…And the wide-open front door.

“What the hell?” I mutter, but as the words leave my lips, I feel an intentional tap on my shoulder. My phone crashes to the ground as I spin around, stumbling backward at the panic crashing over me. A tall, broad-shouldered figure in all black looms over me. He’s wearing a black mask, blue x’s over the eyes. My heart flips in my chest. My lips part, but I don’t scream.

And I can’t make a noise because I can’t even fucking breathe. My chest grows tight as fear clenches down on my vocal cords. Fight or flight is a thing, but what about freeze? I’m paralyzed.

A deep, gut-clenching chuckle comes from his throat, and I find my gaze on his bobbing Adam’s apple. There’s black ink there, but I can’t make it out for the shadows cast across his skin. However, I do notice the thick leather strap in his hand as he lifts it into my view.

What. The. Fuck. I’m gonna die…By a belt?

“Run, Emma,” he growls. “Run.”

Chapter Three

Emma

I don’t think it through. I run. Sure, I’m doing exactly what the psycho in my kitchen said, but what else am I supposed to do? I haven’t taken a kickboxing class in months. I can’t take on a man that’s two and a half times my size. I’m not even going to try, and my thoughts falter as I fly through the open front door—and right into the fractured glass remnants on the sidewalk.

A pained yelp explodes from my throat as the shards slice through the skin on the bottom of my feet. I grit my teeth, but don’t stop.

“You set the trap for yourself!” He explodes into that revolting laughter again. He’s not far from me, and it sends a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. Is this some kind of sick game? Did Jared hire someone to scare me?

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