Page 9 of Devil on the Lake

“I will prepare you for your future as a lowlife on the streets.”

Those vicious words have dug deeper into my brain every day since then. Bitter old hag doesn’t have a loving, maternal bone in her body, but I didn’t know how bad she could be until I failed her test. To the outside world, nothing in my life has changed, but the truth is everything went to shit the day Willow got me suspended.

The only saving grace is Grandma hasn’t taken my bike away, probably because after the first time she pulled her psycho shit on me I asked Phoenix to keep it at his place. I tried to tell him what was going on when I stopped having the guys over, but Grandma was a step ahead of me with a contingency plan if I opened my mouth—military school. I haven’t tried to tell anyone else, forced to endure what she dishes out for me.

I’ve seen Willow’s family, how there’s no doubt they love her no matter what. They were downtown the month before school started. I was at the bakery because Grandma demanded I pick up the order for her 80th birthday instead of her personal assistant. Being her gofer is my job now, and I do it because I’m afraid of what heartless punishment she’ll serve me next. Willow and her parents came in while I was waiting for Grandma’s order. They were all laughs and smiles, her mom giving her a big hug and a kiss on the forehead.

The hollow ache of longing in my chest is ingrained into my mind from the sight.

Goth girl is more loved than I am.

And I fucking hate her for it.

My teeth clench together hard enough to hurt as I glare through the mask at the top of her head from above.

“You make it too easy,” I croon.

She whirls around, searching for me. Her head snaps up to find me crouched above her and her eyes widen. I jump and land with a grunt before her, coat billowing like a goddamn badass.

Willow flings a handful of earth at me, and I throw an arm up to block the dirt, leaves, and pebbles pelting me. With a growl I take off in the direction she runs in. She’s fast and clever in a pinch, I’ll give her that.

We’re getting close to one of the traps and a cruel grin stretches across my face. I make calculated dodges to herd her where I want, enjoying every squeak and strangled cry she makes trying to avoid capture.

When she knocks over the hidden box, she damn near kicks it away with an ear-piercing scream once the contents are revealed. I circle around the clearing between a copse of trees to watch.

“Get off, get off, get off!” She flails her legs and the bugs become dark missiles soaring through the air in the dark woods.

The sound of the large roaches I bought scurrying through the underbrush on the forest floor makes her jump around. As she wriggles, her phone slips from her purse and falls. She’s too occupied to notice.

“Scared yet?” I taunt. “Good.”

“Fuck you! I fucking hate you!” Willow leaps off the rock she jumped on and sprints away.

A chuckle rolls through me as I hop off an old log. Crouching by her phone, I pick it up, slip it into my pocket, and follow her.

Around and around the woods we go. She’s getting tired, but she hasn’t given up yet. When I get close to capturing her, she pulls something to keep me at bay.

Whether it’s pride or her stubbornness to outlast me, she keeps fighting. It’s calling to something in me to see her like this.

I like it. I like her fight.

As I hunt her, my plan shifts. I’m enjoying myself too much. I’m supposed to text Lowell with my signal that I’ve got her before I drag her back to the party. But I don’t need her public humiliation anymore.

I want this all for myself.

I wantherfor myself.

To torment. To catch. To drive wild.

I will break her.

Willow Stewart won’t ever be able to cut me out of her skin the same way she’s embedded under mine.

No one gets to see her like this except for me.

A new plan forms as I pause to gauge where we are. There’s a cabin nearby, one that wasn’t claimed by anyone. Once I find where she’s hiding, I’m dragging her ass there.

“I’m coming for you.” I barely recognize my voice. “Can’t escape me.”

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