Page 63 of Chalk Outline
Dead.
I chuckle as my chest heaves with deep breaths.
Tears fill my eyes.
No one is going to take anything away from me. Not him. Not the Halloween Killers. Not the fucking person who tries to mess with my head.
I’m not his.
I’m not anyone’s.
I can save myself.
I will become whoever I need to be to put an end to this cancerous disease. If they get caught in the line of fire, they will burn with the flamesI ignited.
A grin slowly spreads across my mouth.
“Winona.” Jason’s voice pulls me out of it, snapping me back. The knife slips from my hand onto the forest floor. My arms fall limply to my sides.
I heave loudly, sucking in the air greedily before I realize the extent of the damage I’ve inflicted. His blood looks black under the heavy shadows of the night, of the man behind me, but dark red when my eyes adjust.
I kick my legs away from him and drop to the ground. I gasp and wiggle my soggy fingers. The icy breeze paralyzes me. My hands become numb, and so do the tips of my toes. If this continues, my heart will stop beating as well.
Pressure builds behind my eyes, tightening its vise-like grip around my head.
My legs order me to get off the ground and into the tower. I gather my stun gun from the mud and step inside. My body is on autopilot. My mind is completely blank.
I didn’t expect my first time to look like this. I didn’t expect it to be pretty either, but… I don’t know.
All the pain I had bottled up inside was finally released.
I climb the stairs to my bedroom, barely feeling my heartbeat as I inhale through my mouth and lower myself to the floor.
What have I done?
The silvery glow of the moon filters through the window, drawing my attention until my sight begins to cloud with dark spots.
“Winona, please answer me,” Jason’s voice startles me.
I crawl toward the nightstand to grab the radio with trembling hands. But when I try to respond, no words come out.
Chapter ten
Reeve Hardy
Shelter — Fit For A King
“Please, answer me,” I beg again, pacing back and forth.
Tell me you’re okay.
Right now, I don’t want to cross a line or enter her tower. I know she’s shocked, hurt physically and emotionally, and our trust is nonexistent. The last thing she needs is Jason.
She needsme.
The radio presses against my mask as I wait to hear the soft sound of her voice. The rain intensifies. My hair and clothes are soaked.
The images of what happened keep replaying in my head—blood covered her from top to bottom as she walked away without a word. His crazy voice still echoes in my ears. I can feel the prickles of fury crawling up my skin, protesting, begging me to break his fucking bones for touching her.
