Page 87 of Corrupting Ivy

“Where does he live?”

Otis shook his head. “I don’t know. Somewhere out here, though.”

I stood up, releasing him, then bolted for the door with Jake on my heels.

How did I look a fellow killer in the eyes and not recognize his evil? How did he not set off warning bells like a nuclear siren?

Ivy.

I was so preoccupied with her, she blinded me to everything around us.

She’s gotten so far under my skin and transformed me into someone I didn’t recognize. A forced metamorphosis that I wasn’t sure was for the better.

Making my way to the truck, the smell of campfire smoke stung my nose. “Do you smell that?” I tipped my head up, hoping to catch another whiff. It was a strong smell, with a hint of chemicals.

“Yeah, I do. Who’d have a fire going in this heat?”

Lightning shattered the night sky as the first raindrop fell on my upturned face. “It’s not from a fireplace. Something’s burning, like a bonfire.” Stupid teens haven’t changed their ways from when I was one. “You know how they throw anything on those things.”

The sporadic sprinkles turned to a torrential downpour, forcing us to take our conversation inside the truck.

“Do you see that?” Jake said, pointing to a faint glow in the same direction of the smoke.

“Yeah, I do.”

“We should check it out.”

I shook my head. “No. I need you to find Coen Grady. I don’t have time for rebellious teens.” Throwing the truck into reverse, I backed out of his driveway and onto the winding back dirt roads that were now mud, searching for a woman who may already be dead.

There was this odd feeling that itched in my chest like a parasite burrowing its way down deep. No matter how many times I tried to rid myself of the feeling like I did with all my other emotions, this one had hooks, and every time I tugged on it to make it go away, it wiggled in a little deeper until there was no use in resisting its presence anymore.

It had my heart racing with the worst-case scenarios. It had my palms sweating, my breaths rapid, my eyes darting, frantically looking.

It was fear.

Fearshowed up on my doorstep the moment I discovered her missing, and it never left. It tried its damnedest to become part of me, and I thought I’d prevented it until now.

His fists pounded onthe cabin door as I took a hesitant step back, releasing the doorknob. I’d done it. So why did it feel so surreal?

Mr. Grady’s attack on the door grew weaker as a coughing fit gripped him as smoke billowed from beneath the door and every crack in the walls.

Then it was the screams.

His agonizing screams drove their claws into my psyche and sank their nails deep.

I turned and fled, racing along the dirt road carved out by tires. “Help,” I said, screaming at the top of my lungs, hoping anyone in this deserted area would hear me. I asked for a miracle, but the universe was cruel.

My thighs and calves burned as I limped, slicking my legs with blood as the wounds pulled open. What had only been a trickle before the fighting and running was now a stream—a stream of crimson that turned black in the darkness. My lungs burned as it seemed to take more energy to move. I stopped and rested my hand on the tree for balance, even though everything inside me begged me to keep going—to survive.

I peered over my shoulder, my body hunched over, my hands on my chest as I breathed in deep, feeding my lungs with fresh air. The cabin was up in flames now, visible even from this distance.

A gunshot rang out somewhere in the distance, followed by another, soon after. Someone was out here. I sobbed and wiped the tears from my face, then took a step towards the sound, the adrenaline rush I had before disappeared. Thorns and twigs scratched the souls of my feet while the lace dress brushed against my wounds, aggravating them further. I didn’t make it far when my knees gave out, sending me crashing to the ground, the dirt contaminating my wounds.

Then the skies opened up.

A lump formed in my throat as my tears mixed with the fat raindrops. I dug my fingers into the clay dirt and fisted my hands, then tossed the mud ball away from me, screaming.

My heart raced in my chest as I sucked in breaths with a high-pitched wheeze. It was almost over. I just needed to keep moving. If I stayed on the road, someone would find me, dead or alive. That’s what really mattered, that they found me, and didn’t forget about me. A poor girl with no family, running away from something.

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