Page 1 of Hunting Pretty

AVA

Someone was watching me as I slept.

My consciousness slammed into my body, adrenaline coursing through my veins as my eyes snapped open. I lay still, my heart pounding like a warning drum, my skin prickled with unwanted awareness, listening.

All I could hear was the soft ticking of the clock in my room and the soft rustle of the night breeze in the leaves outside my balcony.

Maybe Ebony had gotten up, needing a glass of water to chase away her nightly glass of Macallan whiskey.

I listened for noises in the rest of the house.

But the McKinsey mansion was quiet.

There was a low muffled noise, but I couldn’t tell what it was.

A soft footstep on my balcony, a rustle of ivy, or a rush of hot breath against the glass windowpane?

Maybe it was just the wind in the leaves, a squirrelrunning along the ornate eaves, or scattering dried debris in the old gutters.

A shadow flashed past the gap in my curtains, making my chest seize.

At least, I thought it was a shadow.

I sat up in bed, blinking, squinting into the darkness, willing my eyes to adjust to the dim, the soft moonlight filtering in through my silk curtains being the only light.

There was no way I was staying here like a sitting duck.

Girls that fought back were less likely to be taken.

Or so I read somewhere.

I slowly pushed back my covers, wincing as the luxurious Egyptian cotton rustled, and slipped my legs out.

Goosebumps immediately rushed across my bare skin, and for once, I wished I slept in something more than panties and a thin t-shirt.

It was early spring in Dublin, Ireland, and the nights had become cool. But the drop in temperature wasn’t what sent shivers up and down my spine.

My toes sank into the plush carpet as I crept toward my balcony.

My bedroom was spacious, but still, it felt like it had swollen in size at how long it took for me to close the few feet, my throat tightening the closer I got.

Finally, I reached the slit in the curtains.

Shit. I should have grabbed something as a weapon. My bedside lamp, perhaps.

Surely Ebony wouldn’t mind her precious vintage Fendi Casa lamp smashed if it was on the head of an intruder.

I shoved that thought aside. I didn’t need a weapon. Imade sure all my doors and windows were locked before I went to sleep at night.

And as Ebony’s crusty old father used to brag before he died, every single pane of glass in this entire mansion was bulletproof and shatterproof.

It wasn’t like my late-night prowler could getin. Right?

I wanted to see what he looked like. It was only fair, considering he knew what I looked like.

I swallowed down a bitter acorn of fear and reached out to the thick curtain.

A gong reverberated through the mansion, making me jump.

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