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Finally, I pull my trench coat over my body just as rain lightly patters down over me, and I bark out a laugh.

I might be the daughter of a serial killer, and I’m so turned on by the thought of the guy stalking me being his copycat killer, I could scream. I have so many questions—about myself, about my father, about him. About why he’s lying about his name.

A few people walk by, their gazes lingering on me as I hurry past, head bowed, my mouth dry and parched. I’m relieved they weren’t here two minutes ago, when I was trying to become his sexy dark archangel, crucifying myself in the most heinous way. Now I just look like a crazy white-haired girl in a trench coat with an extremely swollen pussy.

A single, massive cloud parts, revealing the full moon, which casts an otherworldly light through the trees as the storm moves on. My heart is as icy as the frigid air, and I finally understand the allure of this town and how deep it can sink its claws into you if you let it.

Is this how everyone else died who went missing in this place? Did they sacrifice themselves for the Order?

I’m not that far from home, so it takes me no time to rush home on the slippery sidewalk. I open the door, and luckily, Dani and Misty are in their rooms and don’t see me naked under this coat.

I have a quick shower to clean off my filth, and when I reach my room upstairs, I close the blinds. I put on a big sweater to stay warm. Then I curl up in bed and think about Cali.

Did he taunt her like he’s taunting me? Did he spend an entire night on the phone with her, helping her with homework and telling her how gorgeous she was?

Did she touch herself for him? Did he touch her?

My stomach burns and my jaw clenches at all these unanswered questions. The burning slides through my body into nearly every bone, like my skin is on fire. I’ve never felt more alive than at this moment.

The phone rings in my hand and SF comes onto my screen. The world around me dulls as I stare down at my phone, and I take a deep breath and answer.

Real death. Real blood. There is a real killer.

Swallowing hard, I manage to tame my heart rate and swipe to answer.

“What the fuck do you want?” I snap at him. I can’t pretend I don’t want him with every ounce of my soul, yet I’m so fucking mad at him.

His voice is dark and calculated. “I want to talk about your morals, baby,” he answers without hesitation. “You appear to be lacking them.” I instantly recognize Lincoln’s voice, not whatever phantom version resides in his mind.

I breathe in hard. One call, and I could have the protection of this entire campus. I could end him, ruin his career before it even gets started, and make a news story they will talk about for the next fifty years. My heart is beating out of my chest now. I don’t want this anymore. I can’t believe I ever thought I did.

I think about Cali’s dead body, about him killing her, and I fight off the wetness building between my legs. “You killed her,” I hiss. “And you want to talk to me about fucking morals?”

He sighs, his voice softening. “I want to talk about your morals, Summer, not mine. And believe it or not, I’m trying to protect you.”

I grip the phone so hard my knuckles are white, and my hands start shaking.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” I manage a whisper. “Protect me from who? Who are you trying to protect me from, Lincoln?”

“Summer…can we talk about how you’re feeling right now?”

It takes a minute for my racing heart to slow down. Does he want to discuss my emotions, or the absence of the ones I should be experiencing?

“What?” I ask him, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. There’s no way he can’t hear me crying, and I must sound pathetic to him.

Yet, he’s patient as always, curious about what I’m experiencing. “Baby, tell me every emotion you’re experiencing. Clearly, you’re mad and jealous, but what else do you feel? I think this is a good time for you to reflect. What is the most primal emotion inside you?”

My body relaxes—his voice has a way of doing that. There’s never any judgment, no mocking tone, no shame; just calm, cool, and soothing reassurance that he’s here.

He’s always been here.

The sound of his voice is everything; it’s all I need. I choke on my words, so many thoughts and feelings. I desperately wish he was in front of me. I want him inside me.

“Tell me, baby.”

I curl my legs up and run my hands along the intense pulse inside my thigh. Right now, I’m content. My heart flutters, my stomach tingles, and knees weaken. I trust him more than I should, because everything logical should be the opposite of how I’m feeling.

I’m on my knees for this man.