Page 28 of You Belong With Me

Gabriel emerges from the closet before I can find the courage to make a run for it. The bedroom is dark, but the light in the closet is on, and the glow frames Gabriel as he steps out, into the room…with a mask on his face and a knife in his hand.

The same mask my stalker wore.

And the same knife my stalker fucked me with.

I let out a gasp, my heart rate skyrocketing into cardiac arrest territory.

Lucas was my stalker. He admitted it, right?Right?!And the bag was inhiscloset.

I swallow. “W-what are you doing?”

“I found this shit in Lucas’ closet the other night, and I thought we could have some fun,” he says. The mask covers his mouth, but I can hear the smirk in his voice.

As he walks toward me, I wonder how I ever thought my stalker was Gabriel. He moves so much differently than Lucas. He carries himself differently.

Whenever my stalker—Lucas—entered the room, the energy shifted. Heownedthe space and everything in it, including me. Especially me. Power and confidence rolled off him.

But Gabriel…it’s clear he’s trying to convey confidence, but his stride is less sure, more hesitant. His shoulders are curved slightly inward, his limbs too loose.

“Alexis is probably already looking for me,” I toss out.

He just shakes his head slowly and continues his advance. My mind scrambles for any possible way I can get myself out of this, and short of screaming—which will be drowned out by the music downstairs—I come up blank.

He approaches the bed, knife clutched in his fist, and I brace myself as his knee hits the mattress. He leans toward me, and I can’t help it, I suck in a breath, and every muscle in my body tenses up.

“Are you afraid of me now, Pretty Thing?”

Toward the end of our relationship, I was always a little afraid of him. And not in a fun way, like with Lucas. I always thought I hid that fear well, though. Maybe I’m just shit at hiding it now. Or maybe he’s just slightly more unhinged than he was before, which is saying a lot, actually.

“I’m just…it’s been an intense couple of days, and I’m not sure I’m ready to…”

His free hand darts out, and he grabs my throat, his eyes narrowing. Even in the near-darkness, I can see how bank andemotionless they are. His large hand spans the entire width of my throat, and squeezes, cutting off my air supply.

When I can’t pull in even a tiny bit of air, I panic, my feet kicking frantically, my hands clawing at his fingers. Tears start forming in my eyes, and I open my mouth to scream, but there’s no sound.

His masked face comes close to mine. “I’ve heard you like this shit now,” he says with venom in his tone. “Rumor has it you’ve been whoring yourself out while I’ve been gone.”

He shakes me a little, squeezing even harder, and I feel my grip on consciousness start to loosen—but I fight it with everything I have because I know if I lose consciousness, that’s it. I’m dead.

By some miracle, my knee manages to connect with his balls, and he reels back, releasing my throat. I scramble to the other side of the bed, and practically fly off the mattress, making a beeline for the closest exit, which happens to be the French doors that lead out onto the balcony.

Gabriel is right behind me, but I manage to get the door unlocked and fling it open. As I rush out into the cold night air and throw myself at the wood railing, a scream is ripped from my throat. The sound is so loud and so visceral, it scrapes painfully over my vocal cords.

“Fuck!” Gabriel lurches forward and grabs my upper arm. A fraction of a second before he yanks me back inside, I see several people standing on the lawn below, hanging around the firepit—dancing, drinking, laughing.

Did any of them even see me?

Gabriel shuts and locks the doors, then throws me back onto the bed. He still has the knife in his hand, and holds it up to my throat, the tip digging into my skin. “Do that again,” he hisses. “And the only person coming for you will be thefuckingcoroner.He’s a friend of mine, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind fudging your autopsy a little.”

I swallow, my entire body running cold. Ice cold. I don’t even think my heart is pumping. I can’t feel it. Am I breathing? Everything feels suspended in time and space. I can’t even feel my limbs, otherwise, I’d be clawing out his fucking eyes right now.

Anger bubbles up inside me, but I’m powerless to do anything about it. I must be in shock or something, and that’s probably the most terrifying part of all this. I can’t even try to protect myself.

Tearing the mask off, he flings the fabric aside and pushes the tip of the blade into my throat, even deeper. The sharp sting makes me wince. If this were Lucas, I might be turned on by this, but that’s the thing—I know Lucas would never really hurt me. Even when he came to me as the masked man, it was more about control. It was neverthis.

Sweat beads on Gabriel’s forehead, and his breathing is ragged, his eyes wide, like he’s under the influence of something. He’s never been this violent with me, which makes me wonder if he took something new, something he’d never tried before.

Regardless, he’s going to kill me if I can’t get away somehow.

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