Page 16 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

But wait… Wasn’t there someone else there in the dream? A hazy image of a dark figure with a skull for a face appears in my mind.

Nothing about that makes sense, though, and trying to explain that to a virtual stranger would make me sound completely deranged. So, I do what any rational person would do in this situation. I lie.

“No. Nothing.”

He eyes narrow slightly before morphing back to thatstoic blank mask I am quickly learning must be his default setting. He turns away, and I let out a heavy breath, a sour taste in my mouth. I feel as if that was a test of some kind, and I failed.

He paces back and forth a few steps before turning back to face me.

“Pack a bag,” he orders.

My head draws back, startled by the abrupt change in his demeanor. This man is really starting to give me whiplash with these mood swings.

“Excuse me?Pack a bag for what?” I ask in confusion.

“Because you cannot stay here.”

“Umm…and why not? This is myapartment. Where the hell else would I go?” I reply, knowing I sound like a petulant child, but can’t seem to care at the moment. I don’t know what it is about this infuriating man that brings out this side of me.

In my mind I know he’s probably right. Of course, he is. I really shouldn’t stay here, but after the events of tonight, I find myself not in the mood to be ordered about, and arguing with him feels better than succumbing to the despair that threatens to overwhelm me at any moment.

“Oh wait—let me guess…home with you?” I say sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest, and I don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to my cleavage before slowly crawling their way back up to meet mine. My traitorous body warms under the heated weight of his gaze and an unwelcome tingling sensation in my stomach makes it hard for me to hold on to my anger.

“Yes,” he says simply before walking to the door.

“Wait! What?” I say, chasing after him. The shock over his words douses over me like a bucket of ice. He stops on the threshold.

“Yes. You will come home with me—unless you have somewhere else safe I can drive you to at…” he looks down at his watch, “three o’clock in the morning.”

I start to protest. Where does he get off? Of course I have somewhere to go. Does he think I have no family? No friends? I open my mouth, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but before I can get any of that out, he holds up a hand and continues.

“Do keep in mind that if someone is truly after you, you will only be bringing danger to their doorsteps as well.”

“And you’re not worried about that?” I ask, but he just gives me a dark look that has a shiver rolling down my spine.

“Trust me… I can handle myself.”

I clamp my jaw shut, mulling over his words. If what he says is true and someone is after me, what other options do I really have? I don’t want to see anyone hurt, not because of me.

I think of Jane, of how I know she can never know about this. There is no way I would ever risk her like that.

So that would leave one of my friends.

Natya lives at home with her mom and her two younger brothers. With her fierce protective nature, I know she would welcome me, no questions asked, but I could never put her family in danger like that.

Susannah and Gael share an on-campus apartment with two other roommates. Icouldstay there—at least they would have security—but the idea of sleeping on a couch with four other roommates sounds less than appealing.

“But wait—that guy is in police custody, right? So, how can he hurt anyone if he’s already in jail?” I say, thinking I have found an alternative solution. He looks away for a moment, as if considering, and I think I’ve got him.

“No,hewouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else…” he says, and I give a silent cheer. Take that, Mr. Know-It-All.

But my heart sinks when he continues, “…ifit was the same man, that is. But what if it’s not? What if there is more than one? Are you really willing to risk that?”

He gives me a pointed look before walking out the door.

I collapse onto one of the wooden barstools. I can see him through the front window to where he waits outside on the porch. He has his phone to his ear, talking to someone in a hushed voice. I can’t make out what he is saying, but hopefully it’s the police letting them know about the break in.

I chew on my bottom lip as I carefully weigh my options. On the one hand, if what Archer says is true and there is someone out there—or several someones—I don’t want to put anyone else in harm’s way for me.

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