Page 73 of His Twisted Game
“We were just,” she paused, “messing around. But I’m about to pass out. What’s going on, anyway?”
Footsteps creaked above us, and I glanced at the ceiling.
“Wilder,” Maisie explained. I figured it was him, but I was still on edge, and he creeped me out a little bit.
“I don’t know,” I said. “My studio was broken into. And I keep getting these weird messages, and—”
“Wait,” she said, her eyes widening. “You’re being stalked, and you’re just now telling me?”
My chest tightened. Was I being stalked? It seemed so surreal.
“People leave weird threats at the library all the time. I’m not even joking. I thought it was nothing.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re a librarian, and you’re getting death threats?”
“It comes with the territory? Public service and all?” I tried to joke.
Her eyes rounded even more. “Geez, Fiona. Maybe we should get you a gun,” she murmured.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Wilder,” Maisie called. She dragged me up the stairs. Wilder appeared in the hallway. “She’s going to sleep in the room next to us tonight.” Maisie’s focus shifted to me. “He hearseverything.Smells it too. No one is going to hurt you. Not with Wilder around.”
I looked at him. “Thanks,” I said. He nodded.
“I’m glad you came to us,” Maisie said.
“Me too,” I said. But it still seemed strange. Why hadn’t Sawyer let me stay with him? Why was it better for me to be here while he was somewhere else?
Did he not want to be around me anymore?
I closed the guest room door, then laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. I had to be ready. Would Sawyer show up? Would he save me? Or wasthisSawyer’s way of saving me?
You know I love you, right?
His words kept shuddering within me, keeping me awake. He might have been fascinated by me, sure, but he wasn’t in love with me. How could he say that when our relationship was based on his games?
Nothing about us was real.
So why did it seem like he was telling the truth?
***
A television laugh track echoed through the stairwell up to my bedroom. I quickly dressed and went downstairs. Maisie sat on the couch, reading a book, a cup of coffee on the table next to her, the television on in the background.
“Where’s Wilder?” I asked.
“Working,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m—” I mean, was I fine? I didn’t know. “Where’s Sawyer?”
“If he’s here, he’s in the office inside of the Calving Barn. Don’t worry,” she smiled at me, “No one can get in here. Wilder has some insane security in this place. But what’s going on with Sawyer?”
I clenched my hands together. I hadn’t told her about us yet. He was her brother-in-lawandmy boss. My mouth gaped.
“It’s fine,” she shrugged, waving me off. “Whenever you’re comfortable, you can tell me.”
My phone buzzed with a text from Sawyer:Stay in their house.
