Page 63 of A Smile Full of Lies
Enough foreplay. Time to make my move. I flicked my finger over the touch panel.
A low mechanical sound hummed through the speakers as the entrance doors clicked open. That was Silverface’s cue to start searching for Ros and find a way to isolate her from the rest of the group.
Ros’s head snapped toward the sound. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.
Good girl.
The rude, thirsty blonde grabbed her friend’s hand.
“Come on,” she hissed. The girls surged forward through the doors, stepping around Ros, eager to get inside first.
Ros hesitated. Her gaze sharpened as she stared toward the dark hall ahead of her.
“You’re running,” I said, my voice low and distorted through the hidden speaker.
Ros stiffened. Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened as the low, mechanical buzz echoed through the corridor. Next came the blinding flash intended to disorient everyone.
Silverface moved, his gaze trained on Ros while everyone shielded their eyes from the blinding flash that lit up the room. She’d already started backing away from the rest of the group, and turned, trying to get her bearings.
Silverface saw his opening and took it, shoving her through the entrance to the wine cellar. A sharp clang of metal followed, making everyone’s heads jerk toward the hall opposite the wine cellar’s entrance.
Silverface tugged the heavy oak door behind Ros shut and locked it, cutting her off from everyone else, just like we’d agreed.
He turned back toward the fans huddled in the entrance hall and lunged, sending them scattering in all different directions, routing them toward the other masked creators I’d hired to make the haunted house a success while I played out my private hunt with Ros.
Her pulse hammered visibly beneath her skin; I could see the vein jumping at the base of her throat clearly through my security feed.
She lunged toward the door right as Silverface closed and locked it behind her. Ros’s hands shot toward the wood, banging on it. Panicked, she tugged at the handle but it didn’t budge.
“Fuck.”
My little princess was trapped.
Perfect.
Ros spun toward the dark stairs. Purple light flickered across the stone floor of the wine cellar below, faint and uneven.
“Hello?” she called.
Her voice was too sharp, her breathing too fast.
I leaned toward the console, my gloved hand sliding beneath the mic control.
“You can’t outrun me,” I growled through the hidden speaker.
Her breath hitched.
The dark wine cellar stretched in front of her. Its shadows carved long, narrow shapes across the high stone walls.
My chest tightened as she took a tentative step forward. Her fingers brushed the cold edge of the wall and her hand curled into a fist.
She was scared. She was excited. And I was the reason why.
I adjusted the controls. The low sound of boots scraping across concrete filled the hall. Ros’s eyes widened. Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat.
She turned toward the sound.
Another sound — faint and sharp — echoed through the speakers. The sound of breathing…my breathing.
