Page 3 of Inescapable Darkness
I glance down at my soaked clothes as I start towards the parking lot. I have a car, so I don’t have to walk all the way to the residential area, but I’m not too thrilled about getting into my car in this state either. But it’s better than—
A huff rips from my throat as I slam chest first into someone when I round the corner. Stumbling back, I snap my gaze up, an apology already on my tongue.
But my words falter when I take in the person standing in front of me. Theguystanding in front of me.
He’s tall and athletic, with an impressive array of lethal muscles but without being too bulky. His dark brown hair curls softly at the ends. It’s perfectly styled and is swept back from his face, giving him a composed look that screams power and control. He has brown eyes and a face that is so fucking gorgeous that is should be illegal.
Dread spreads through my veins like ice.
It can’t be.
It can’t.
For one second, it feels as if time itself has stopped moving. The guy I bumped into is still looking down at his shirt, which is now wet from where I slammed into him, and all I can do is stare at him for this one moment that is suspended in time.
Even though my mind is desperately trying to deny the truth, I know without a shred of doubt that it’s him.
I have never forgotten his face.
And I never will.
Because for the past six years, I have seen his face every time I close my eyes.
He was my darkest secret. My first and only act of rebellion. The source of my greatest confusion. The person who irrevocably shattered my world. The one who ripped painful feelings from me with just one look and one fucking sigh. And for the past few months, my biggest regret and the reason why the cult I was born into now wants my head.
This is the mafia prince I was supposed to have assassinated six years ago.
“Hey,” he snaps as he looks up from his wet shirt.
Before his eyes are even halfway to my face, I have already schooled my features into an appropriately apologetic look. There are no traces left of the shock and dread that I really felt a second ago. No evidence that I recognized him.
And he won’t recognize me either.
I have dyed my naturally auburn hair a dull brown and cut it so that it ends at my collarbones. The real color of my eyes is also hidden by brown contact lenses. And I have one of those neutral faces that are perfect for assassins.
I’m good-looking enough for people to treat me politely and with kindness. Because let’s face it, everyone always instinctively treats pretty people better. But I’m not beautiful enough to stand out in a crowd. It’s just one of those faces that make people offer me a smile when they meet me on the street but then forget me as soon as I’m out of sight.
Besides, this particular person only saw me for less than a minute six years ago in a dark room. So with the disguise added to that, there is no way he will recognize me now.
“Watch where you’re…” he continues but then suddenly trails off when he meets my gaze.
His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open slightly.
Panic explodes in my chest like a cloud of cold poison.
“It’s you,” he blurts out.
“I’m sorry.” I quickly run a hand over my face, ducking my head slightly as I pretend to push a few strands of hair out of my face. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
He just opens and closes his mouth a few times, utter shock pulsing across his features. I use the opportunity to quickly slip around him.
It takes all of my considerable self-control not to run the final distance to the parking lot. I keep my pace normal and resist the urge to look over my shoulder.
Be invisible.
Be invisible.
When I at last reach my car, I cast a quick glance back while opening the driver’s side door to confirm that he has left.