Page 38 of My Masked Savior
“Three! Two! One!”
The ball drops, glittering like a jewel as fireworks burst overhead, washing the city in red and gold light. Strangers kiss, laugh, cry. Basia throws her arms around me, squealing.
“Happy New Year, you grumpy little hermit!”
I laugh, hugging her back. “Happy New Year, Bas.”
My phone buzzes with texts. One is from my parents, but the other is from Damien.
Happy New Year, princess.
I almost start to believe it. That this is a fresh start. That I’m free. I’m here with a great friend, and have an amazing new man in my life.
Basia and I get more drinks, laughing at a lame date story she shares. But after a while, I start glancing at my watch. I should be getting home—people tend to find themselves in the ER on New Year’s and need their insurance handled. I’m off, but I might get a call or two from clients. Then Basia’s phone buzzes, and she pulls away, squinting at the screen. “My ride to the party is here! Finally.” She gives me one last quick hug, the smell of her floral shampoo grounding me. “Don’t wait out here too long, okay?”
“I won’t,” I promise, eager to get in a nice, hot shower.
She disappears into the sea of people with one last wave, and I stand there for a while, waiting for my own Uber to ping. The fireworks keep coming, echoing off the buildings like artillery fire, and I flinch at every burst, telling myselfit’s normal.
Finally, my phone buzzes.
Driver arriving in 2 minutes.
I make my way toward the curb, weaving through clusters of people holding sparklers. The streets are slick from melting confetti, trash, and spilled drinks. A thin layer of smoke from the fireworks hangs in the air. Wonder what this place is going to look like in the morning.
That’s when I hear it.
“Morgan.”
The voice freezes me mid-step. Too smooth. Too familiar. Too painful. My heart plummets straight to my stomach.
No. It can’t be.
I turn slowly.
He’s there. Marco. Dressed in black, a grin twisting the face I once thought beautiful into something monstrous. His eyes glint with that same cold amusement I used to mistake for love.
“Happy New Year, baby.”
My throat closes. “How—how did you find me?”
He steps closer, hands in his pockets like he’s out for a stroll. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. ‘Forever’ means something to me.”
I stumble back, but his hand snaps out, grabbing my wrist hard enough to make my bones grind. The pressure on my wrist sends me straight back—hotel bathroom on a road trip, his fingers digging in, his voice saying the same thing: you made me do this. I forget everything I learned at the self-defense class.
“Let me go!”
“Shh.” He yanks me into the shadow of a narrow alley between two buildings. Music and laughter still spill fromthe street, but it feels miles away now. The stench of garbage and wet concrete fills my nose.
“You ran from me,” he whispers, pressing me against the wall. His breath smells like whiskey. “You think you can just disappear? Start over? With him?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about?—”
His hand flashes out, striking the wall next to my head hard enough to make me flinch. “Don’t lie to me, Morgan. I’ve seen you with him.”
“You need to let me go, Marco,” I squeak, my voice sounding less convincing than I’d like it to. But I never spoke up for myself with him, I always played it safe, made myself small… a smaller target.
“I’d kill you before I ever let you go.”
