Page 10 of Locke

I heard light movements. A shuffle of clothing. The slide of what I could only assume was my phone off the floor. Holy shit, holy fuck, shit, shit, shit. My breaths picked up, and I realized I must have been loud, that they must know I was still in here.

I wondered if I should make a run for it. But my legs weren’t cooperating, and I was terrified. Terrified of being shot. Because if there was one thing in this life I did not want, it was to get fucking shot. Anything but the searing pain of a bullet entering my body. I rubbed my stomach, feeling lightheaded.

A light bang sounded to my right. I twisted my head to follow it. The footsteps moved closely before every light bang. I recognized the sound. The person was swinging the stall doors open one at a time, and I was still sitting there, feet hovering above the floor, eyes wide, body so still. I was such a fucking idiot. Sweat broke out as the step, step continued on, followed by the gentle thud of the stall door hitting the adjoining wall.

Now the door hit the wall next to me, and I knew I was next, and I—I was fucking prey cornered and shit out of luck.

The world went utterly still as the step, step stopped in front of my stall. A moment of silence followed, and then the door before me swung wide open, revealing me.

Four

Kali

“Fuck,” I whispered as my eyes connected with the dark figure that loomed over me. It was a man, and he was huge. He swallowed up the doorway, his face concealed in the darkness, but I could feel his eyes on me.

“Fuck,” I repeated faintly, my lips trembling as he continued to stare me down.

A light flickered on. A tiny flashlight pointed my way, blasting into my eyes. I winced, twisting my head away as the man aimed it over me slowly, saying absolutely nothing.

Okay, now was the perfect time to plead. He wasn’t shooting me, but one quick look in his direction and I saw the gun clenched in his big hand. He aimed the light on the floor between us now, and it glowed dimly, like he’d changed it to the lowest setting. I refused to look at him at first because if I did, if I saw him, I would be in deep shit.

Seconds stretched on, and still he wordlessly looked at me, as though waiting for me to speak. It wasn’t fair he was leaving the ball in my court. He was the aggressor—he should have been speaking first. Making demands. Pulling me by the hair. Shooting me in the head.

He held the power.

I steadied my breathing as a strange calm washed over me. It was the feeling of defeat. I was relinquishing all power, completely at this man’s mercy.

Numbly, I whispered, “I won’t say anything.”

Because that was the kind of shit you said in Hawthorne. You weren’t going to squeal. Snitches get stitches. In this case, a swift bullet to the head.

He didn’t acknowledge my words, but I sensed his stare intensifying. I blinked up, curiosity a bitch to staunch. The second I looked at his face, my breath stilled at once, and my fear returned tenfold. No, no, no. My body quaked as I looked into his dark, bottomless eyes, knowing I was doomed.

I recognized him. Who didn’t know a face like that? I didn’t know him, but I knew him in the same way all of Blackwater did.

And I was so utterly fucked.

My life had just collided with Max Locke’s, and now he was going to end it.

I readied myself, knowing damn well that the rumours I had passively brushed off were true all along. One look at him in the flesh and I believed them.

This man was terrifying.

Terrifyingly beautiful too.

“Don’t kill me,” I whispered now, voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve got more life to live. Don’t.”

His grip on the gun tightened, and I resisted wincing. I couldn’t let him sense my fear. I didn’t want to go out dying like a weakling, either. Pleading and then having a bullet to my head enraged me. I continued to stare at him, and it was surreal. To be here. To have collided with him of all people. This suited monster Hell spewed up from its darkest pits. The world fell away. Nothing outside of him and me existed, and I wondered if that was how it felt like to be moments away from death.

His voice was deep and quiet as he spoke, sparking goosebumps along my skin. “Dark or light?”

I blinked, uncertain. “What?”

I didn’t understand.

He asked again. “Dark or light—which are you?”

“Light.”

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