Page 40 of Deal with the Devil

But it’s not a request that loads when I open the email. It’s a video.

My blood chills and a scream rips into the silence, because I’m staring at the same masked man who attacked me. The same one who haunted my nightmares.

He begins to speak, his voice shockingly, terrifyingly loud in my laptop speakers. “You can run, but you can’t hide. I’m hunting for you, little slut. I’m hunting for you, and I’ll find you. When I do, I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, since my last lesson apparently didn’t stick.” He laughs that same dark laugh he’d laughed as I lay bleeding in my bed. My skin crawls with fear. “I’m hunting. Hunting,hunting.” He leans close to the camera and whispers, “Your disobedience has made this personal, so I’ll share something personal with you now, my little slut.” He sits back and laughs again as he says, “Hunting makes me hard.”

The video snaps to black before it—disintegrates—leaving a blank email in its place.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

I slam my laptop shut without signing off, rattled.

My hands shake around my phone as I stand, moving away from the windows. Why are there so many windows in this house?

I don’t know how I do it through my fear scattered thoughts, but I call Kane.

“Sunshine.” His voice is warmth, but even that fails to penetrate the cold fear.

My sob sounds sharp as a blade over the line, but I can’t get any actual words past the fear.

“What’s going on?” His worry is crisp and clear. The background goes silent. Everyone is listening, on guard. I sob again and he demands, “Nevaeh, are you hurt?”

“He’s—hunting—me.”

“Who?” I can only cry as I sink down the wall, curling into a ball. It’s like my mind is breaking apart, dismantling. I can’t focus.I can’t breathe.“Fuck,” I hear him curse, but even that sounds distant. “I’m on my way, Sunshine. Stay on the line, I’m on my way.”

I do as I’m told, mainly, because I’m not in possession of the ability to disconnect. I’m frozen in the corner, my back to the wall, knees up against my chest. I don’t possess the power to stop the tears, to battleback the panic or to obliterate the dark that is slowly closing in on my vision.

Faintly, I can hear the echo of Kane’s voice in my mind, but I can’t process his words as the panic sinks its talons deep into my mind, and I’m back in my old room with that monster on top of me, crushing my airway, hurting my body. Images shift in my mind as though I’m watching the horrors on a screen. I can see myself on the floor as he presses his hand between my butt cheeks, violating me with his touch. But this time, the vision distorts from a memory to something that hasn’t yet happened—a painted threat of words spoken—because this time the monster is hard. He doesn’t touch me through my shorts, either. He tears them violently from my body.

I don’t realize I’m screaming, kicking and crying—using my nails and teeth and anything I can as big, hard hands hold me in place against a crushingly massive body.

“I’m here. It’s me, Nevaeh, I’m here.” My body stops thrashing as the voice settles and reality battles the waking nightmare until I’m a sobbing, broken mess in his arms.

“What the fuck happened?” A deep, dark male voice asks.

“Check the house,” Kane barks and heavy footsteps begin the task of doing just that.

Humiliated and beyond devastated, I push againstKane’s chest. “I’m s-sorry.” A sharp hiccup distorts the words. I sound like an over-imbibed cartoon character. Only, I’ve not drowned myself in liquor so much as tears. “There’s no one here.”

Kane’s eyes are blade sharp as he holds my face in his hands and asks coolly, calmly, “What happened, Nevaeh?”

“I was—” I swallow, my eyes shifting to the kitchen table where my laptop still sits. Kane’s eyes follow mine and his brows draw together. Such a smart man.

“Did he contact you? Antonio?”

I shake my head. “I was working. I got an email, and it was from a new contact.” I shudder. It’s violent. “There was a video and it started to play. It was the monst—man who attacked me. He said things—threats.” I shake my head because I can’t go on.

Kane stands. “Show me.”

“The video is gone. When it finished playing it just—” I lift my shoulders in a helpless gesture as Tav and Ian reappear from checking the house. “Poof. Gone.”

“What do you mean it was just gone?” Tav demands, having caught enough of the conversation to be able to jump in.

“I mean it was there and then it wasn’t. There was a video and then the email was empty.”

“Let me see the email,” Ian requests softly.

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