Page 9 of Whispers of Ruin

I really need to get out, to focus my mind on something else.

Julian is away again on another business trip, as usual. The idea of heading to the library to sketch crosses my mind, a way to escape solitude and bad thoughts. I do not let myself think this through while I jump out of bed to get dressed, grab a chocolate chip cookie, and head straight outside.

The bustle of the city fades behind me as I walk, the pressure of the world easing slightly, replaced by the calm that awaits in the quiet of the library.

When I finally arrive, I take a second to soak in the silence that surrounds me. It feels cooler inside, and the soft light filters through the rows. There is a particular scent in the air—dusty pages, the presence of pure knowledge.

I wander further into the aisles, letting my fingers brush the spines of the books, seeking the peace my head so desperately craves.

As I slip deeper into the labyrinth of bookshelves, my phone buzzes in my pocket, the sudden sound fulling a direct jolt to my system. I pull it out, relaxing as I know it is Zoey asking about last night.

My eyes widen, going as round as marbles. I freeze. My heart stutters. There is no mistaking that message this time.

Last night? How the hell could that person possibly know that? Unless…

A loud bang sounds in the distance, too close for comfort. I press my hands to my mouth to stifle the startled gasp that slips out, its echo fading in time with the reverberations of the earlier noise.

I quickly shove my phone back into my pocket, my legs moving of their own accord, urging me to get lost. I don’t know why I’m running—I am not even sure what I’m escaping. I slide between the shelves, keeping it to the shadows, my breath shallow as I press my back against the cool books and sit down to hide.

Every small sound around me feels amplified, my pulse a steady drumbeat in my ears. I try to keep quiet, but a voice in my head tells me it is futile.

He is coming.

Another buzz.

That’s when I hear it—the unmistakable footsteps resonating through the aisles. Slow. Methodical. I can feel him drawing closer like the predator he is. I get up hurriedly and round a corner, and all of a sudden, I am not alone anymore.

He’s there.

Standing in the narrow passage between the shelves, his presence overwhelming. He doesn’t say a word, just steps forward, and before I can react, his hand closes around my wrist, yanking me toward him.

“You thought you could run,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. His hold intensifies, and I feel the heat of his body against mine.

My heart skips a beat. Fear, excitement, and something darker swirl inside as I try to understand what is going on.

I attempt to pull away, but he does not let go. His other hand presses hard against my neck, just enough to make me gasp for air, still not enough to choke me. The adrenaline has my blood pumping faster, every nerve in my body is on high alert.

“Do not think you can ever escape me, little fox. Because I will always hunt you.”

My chest heaves loudly beneath the weight of his touch. I lift my head abruptly, our stares lock in a silent battle.Mine shimmer with unshed tears, while his, behind his mask—hazel, pale, and eerily piercing—keep me captive. So light, yet impossibly dark—the perfect contradiction.

He yanks my wrist toward him, the bruising pressure of his fingers still burning against my skin. He pulls up just a bit his mask, his lips parting slowly, filled with both hunger and intent, before his tongue meets my flesh.

Heat and moisture trail up my arm as he licks, his mouth closing around my fingers. Just as abruptly, he lets go—a faintpopechoing as my hand slips free from his grasp.

“Looks like only one of your hands had the privilege of being properly marked by that box the other day. How about we fix that,hmm?”

Terror floods my body and seizes my heart. I steal a quick look at my other hand, still wrapped in the bandage Zoey had carefully applied the other day. It had taken all my effort to convince her I had simply cut myself while chopping carrots. What lie would I have to come up with this time? That I had been practicing for aFive Finger Fillettournament? Because nothing says "well-adjusted adult" like willingly stabbing the table between your fingers for fun…

“Don’t you dare…”

My sentence is abruptly cut short as my breath is stolen from me.

“Tut tut, silence my sweet little foxling or I will fucking break your pretty neck.” He stops and pulls closer. “Not only will you lose your ability to breathe, but you won’t be able to live at all.”

I bite back the rest of my words, wisely choosing not to finish my sentence. My legs tremble as the color drains from my face, leaving it a deep shade of purple. My vision blurs as I can feel myself slipping away. He loosens his grip for just a split second before I lose consciousness, letting out a small, malevolent smirk.

“I want you wide awake as I bestow upon you the gift of being branded.”

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