Page 51 of Madness & Mayhem
Braylin’s Porsche sits nestled in the middle, the other two spaces empty.
Her parents are gone. Which, from what I’ve gathered, they always are.
I turn the flashlight on my phone, shining it around the wall of the garage.
“What are you looking for?” she whispers.
I shake my head, my eyes connecting with the local security company’s system installed in the back corner. I nod my head toward it, pressing my finger to my lips again.
Slipping my knife from my pocket, I bring it to the security box, using the blade to pop the top open. Various colored wires come into view, and I grind my jaw, having no idea where to begin. Taking a deep breath, I read the instructions on the inside of the cover before I pull a few, enough to turn the sound off and disable the entire alarm.
“Wow,” Lakyn whispers behind me, and I can hear the breathlessness in her voice.
I nod my head toward the door heading into the house. “Come on. It’s disabled and won’t alert the security company, but we only have so much time before they realize it’s disabled.”
Lakyn nods, and we head toward the door leading into the house. I glance at her as I walk up the few steps, making sure she looks ready.
She nods.
My gloved finger grips the silver knob, and I turn it slowly, opening the door to music filtering down from the second story. Lakyn’s gloved fingers wrap around my hip, and we step inside. I pull the door closed softly behind me before glancing around the mudroom. It’s simple, though updated.
Lana Del Rey plays through the surround sound speakers, and I turn to Lakyn, her mask firmly on her face, the hood of her black sweatshirt covering her hair, and her black leggings molding to her thighs.
She looks fucking sexy as a slasher.
I turn the knife to her, spinning on my feet as I press it against her neck, shoving her against the wall. I can feel the way her breathing picks up, her heart thundering against her chest. I bring the clean blade against the small sliver of skin between her sweatshirt and her mask.
She tilts her face up to mine, and I can see the way her eyes darken through the small holes of her mask. She stares at me, her eyes probing mine, and I swallow down the groan at the way her eyes secure to my soul.
Mine. All mine.
I knock my mask against hers, wishing I could kiss her, but I refuse to reveal her face or mine. So instead, I take what I can, which is every bit of her I can touch.
My hands slide from her shoulders down around her ribs and to her waist. I grip her tightly, and she trembles in my hold, unable to move barely an inch besides beginning to crumble in my grip.
“Your scent fills the air, baby Lake. It seems the anticipation of killing has you turned on.”
She lets out a small growl, and I press the knife into her more firmly, turned on by her eagerness.
“Come on, Lakyn. No more time to waste.” I pull the knife away from her neck, dropping it to my side, and step into the kitchen. The place is dim, with the lights on above the sink and a few tealights lit around the counter. It’s clean, the granite countertops shining, the tall barstools, the matte stainless-steel appliances. It’s all in pristine condition, like not one person actually has done any work in here.
The music turns off suddenly, making me stiffen briefly before it switches to a new song. The floor creaks upstairs, and Lakyn tilts her head up. My eyes fall to her gloved fingers, and I look at the knife in her grip, her fingers tensed tightly around the handle.
“I want her,” she whispers.
I smile. She’s fucking perfect. “You can have her.”
Lakyn’s arm goes around my neck, the one holding the knife. I bend with her pull, securing my lips against hers for a brief second. Our kiss is hot, demanding, possessive, and gone before I can even breathe. Or maybe it’s just Lakyn, stealing my breaths as she always has.
Lakyn slides her hand from my neck, walking around me and toward the front of the house. She sees the grand staircase, the shining oak bannister glinting against the moonlight. Her gloved fingers slide against the surface, her fingers poised and delicately curved as she wraps them around the railing, sliding them up as only Lakyn can. Dangerous, beautiful.
Deadly.
She’s transformed, I realize. She isn’t the Lakyn I came home to, though she was already on her way. The entire process of being stalked by a masked killer, coming to find out she may have feared him, but fear wasn’t the main emotion. It was a need—a desire that she fought against as if she could run from herself. She could never run from who she was becoming, it was going to overtake her like a giant storm. No matter which direction she ran, it was still going to demolish her where she stood.
It wasn’t until she realized who the masked man was, that it was me, and she nearly murdered someone in front of the entire town, that the real her become unglued. The real Lakyn came out, as if her metaphorical mask finally came off.
And now she’s here, someone different entirely, and if I were to be honest, the girl who walks in front of me up the stairs is the girl I’ve been in love with since I first met her. I knew she was this beneath her clothing. This girl, this dark and dangerous woman, was the real Lakyn.