Page 32 of Hunting Pretty

I snatched up my keys and with trembling hands, I unlocked the car door. I fell into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, locking it as I started the engine.

Cormac yelled into the darkness as I drove away.

I gripped the wheel tighter, my heart still pounding from the chaos, but my mind kept circling back tohim.

My stalker had thrown that rock at Cormac. My stalker had saved me.

Why would he do that?

I didn’t know him—aside from the fact that he’d been lurking in the shadows, watching me. Breaking into my room. Messing with my security footage and perhaps even Liath’s voice message.

He was mystalker.

Yet he threw that rock, creating just enough of a distraction for me to get away.

Why the hell would he help me?

It didn’t make sense.

What was his angle? What did he gain from helping me?

If he’d been following me, if he was dangerous, why would he offer me an escape? What kind of game was he playing?

Fear still flickered beneath the surface, but curiosity gnawed at me.

Was he protecting me? Manipulating me?

I couldn’t shake the thought—why would a stranger, my stalker of all people, step in like that? What was his endgame?

Why would he care? Why would he help me?

Deep down, I feared he had only saved me because he had something even worse planned for me.

I couldn’t move.

The velvet of the couch underneath me was so cold it felt wet. Heart thudding, I tried to push up off the couch. But I was frozen in place. My mind screamed at my limbs to move but they just lay limp like my body had stopped working.

Panic gripped me.

Why couldn’t I move?

From the darkness a shadow distended and detached, a silhouette. A man.

He walked toward me, his footsteps echoing off the high ceilings.

A ringing filled my ears, high-pitched and relentless, drowning out everything else as if the world around me had gone silent, leaving nothing but the sound of my own rising panic.

No. Please, nothim.

He leaned over me, his face in darkness. No matter how many times I had this nightmare I could never see his face.

“Sweet, sweet girl.” His sour breath swirled around my cheeks.

Fear closed its bony fingers around my throat, cutting off my oxygen.

I tried to breathe.

I tried to scream.

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