Page 12 of Bound to a Killer
Oh, God. My hand flies to my abdomen. I think I might vomit. The gruesome reality sinks in, all the way down into the hollow pit of my stomach until it twists and writhes, and I manage to grip hold of my senses—just barely—but by then, it’s too late.
There’s a shift. A slight twitch of muscle behind me.
Then breath, hot and close, coasts along the back of my neck, making the little hairs stand on end.
It happens fast. Too fast. My mind can’t even process any of it.
I jerk, my spine curving at the feel of a hard figure pressinginto my back. I start to scream, but the cold bite of a blade grazes my throat, silencing me.
Any attempt to cry out fizzles into a shuddering, desperate gasp as I cling to the foreign arm cinched around my neck. His grip tightens over my chest and shoulders as he spins me around, locking me with his arm like an iron clamp. I claw and scrape, but nothing loosens him. His hold is unbreakable.
Tears flood my vision, brimming to an overflow as the knife digs a little deeper into my skin. The wet stream scalds my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting them fall faster, quicker.
I’m going to die.
“Follow me,” the deep voice commands, his breath hot against my ear. A chill reverberates through my body, solidifying it. "Make a sound,” he says, his voice ice-sharp, “and I promise you’ll regret it.”
4
ARIA
I’ve never felt my heart beat so violently, each thud like a lightning strike to my ribs, knocking the air out of my lungs.
Without thinking, my hands fling up to the arm clamped around my throat, nails digging into cold, leather sleeves as if that’s enough to pry him off me. He doesn’t budge. Not even an inch.
My fingers curl even deeper into his arm, knuckles blanching with the brute effort. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to suppress the burn behind them as I buck and twist, a faint plea rising in my throat.
“Please.”
My voice sounds weak. Fragile.
My arms stiffen. Irrational hope surges. Every part of me now rocks with convulsive force as I latch onto him with everything I have.
Holding onto this stranger. This criminal.
This killer.
My veins go cold, terrified he’ll drag the blade across my neck before I even finish pleading.
Soot-colored specks cloud my vision when I dare to glance back at the limp body swaying in front of me.
Mrs. Shaw. Kelsey’s mom.
I choke on a cry that breaks apart the moment pressure tightens against the pulsing vein in my throat, cold steel digging into delicate skin.
I don’t stand a chance.
The shushing in my ear makes me flinch, another cry swallowed by the blade. “Don’t fight. You’ll only make it worse.”
My insides shrivel at the deep baritone of his voice. Cold. Ruthless. Certain. I try to stifle the sobs, but a few slip out, wet gasps tangled in tears and hopelessness, my body trembling with every breath.
This is the end. There’s nothing I can do.
I can’t fight him off. I’ll die before my next breath if I even try to scream.
It won’t help. Nothing will help.
Even if someone hears me, it won’t matter. I’d only drag my friends into it. I can’t let that happen.
