Page 33 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Taking a deep breath, I slowly turned to find him. He was leaning against the brick wall of the store next to the dance studio, his arms crossed in front of him.

Back in school, we’d once studied serial killers in psychology class. The teacher had taught us how they could blend in, how they were often attractive and agreeable, luring you in until it was too late.

My foster brother reminded me of that.

The charming teenager had become an even more charming man with his carefully parted hair, a handsome face, and a pleasant smile. When he talked to strangers, his voice was even a different pitch, unassuming, and unthreatening.

Not showing you who he was...until it was too late.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, keeping the fear out of my voice, because he’d always fed on it.

“Just a little visit for my favorite sister,” he said mockingly, his eyes tracking down my body in a way that made me want to peel off my skin. “I thought I would stop by to see when you were coming to dinner.”

My breath hitched at that. I wasn’t ever coming to dinner again. I could picture his little photography setup in my head, the blankets he would have spread out on the floor. The way his knife had felt scraping threateningly across my neck before I stripped.

Bile rose in my throat, and I was suddenly light-headed.

He’d forced me to the last dinner. I couldn’t let it happen again. I glanced around, hoping that other dancers had filed out behind me somehow. But no, I was out here alone. I’d had to stay later than usual to scrub the dance studio floors, so everyone must have left while I cleaned.

“I don’t have time for a visit tonight, I’m afraid,” I said, wincing inwardly as my voice trembled. Sometimes I wondered if he was even human or if demons were actually real, and there was one standing in front of me right then.

He sighed, shaking his head disappointedly at me as he pushed away from the wall and straightened. “No time for dinner. That’s over a month now where you’ve said that. I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me, Ana.”

He was using the same light tone as I was—so why was I shaking at his words?

Spread your legs, Ana…just like that. I blinked, trying to push the last dinner out of my head. I needed to focus so I could get away from him.

“I’d never do that,” I said softly, desperate to keep him calm.

If I thought that his calm was scary...his anger was even worse.

Even in my fear, though, I had to resist the urge to correct him for the millionth time that I didn’t want him using that nickname.

It wouldn’t have done any good—I knew that from experience.

“We’ll catch up soon,” I lied. “I’ll go over to Mom and Dad’s house, and we can all have dinner.”

Calling them “mom and dad” felt like ash on my tongue. His parents had never been those words. They’d given me a roof over my head, yes, but they’d also let their monster of a son torture me for years. They’d turned a blind eye to everything he did to me...and others.

I hated them almost as much as I hated him.

Almost.

“Will you, though, Ana? Because I feel like you’ve told me that before.”

His blue eyes gleamed, and it was all I could do to hold in the terrified sob that wanted to squeak out.

He took a step toward me, and I didn’t bother trying to stand my ground. When something that evil comes toward you, it’s stupid to try and fight back.

The correct action is always to try and run.

The dying sun cast dark shadows across his face and across the concrete, making him seem even more sinister than usual. He was staring at me with dark possession, dark madness—a look that never faded no matter how much time had passed.

“There’s no getting away from your family, Ana. You’re a bad little girl for ever wanting to.” The word family dripped from his lips, heavy with sarcasm. Family was the last thing that Michael thought of me as.

“Of course,” I said appeasingly, as I continued to back away from him, side-eying my surroundings, desperate for someone to appear and save me. He usually behaved in public places, but this late, this part of town wasn’t very “public.”

Belatedly, I realized he’d backed me into a corner, nowhere to escape to thanks to the narrow spacing of the two buildings behind me. My hands fisted at my sides as his slow, steady…menacing steps grew closer.

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