Page 6

Chapter 5

Juliet

While my masked man had me on my knees in the woods, I had to open my big mouth and vow to get my revenge. But how the hell am I supposed to do that when I don’t know what this motherfucker looks like beneath the mask? I don’t even know his name, so it’s not like I can hunt him down. I’ll have to wait until he shows his masked face again. Somehow, I’ll get that knife from him and get my revenge.

On my way back to the dorm, I grab a coffee. I’ll need the caffeine to stay awake while I study for tomorrow’s exam until the early hours of the morning. I glance around the dark campus, making sure my masked man isn’t following me or lurking somewhere to ambush me, paranoia my constant companion since that night in the woods.

A few yards away, a girl in scrubs squeals and races toward a man leaning on a brick wall, waiting for her. “Craig! I missed you!”

He grins and picks her up when she jumps into his arms, letting out an oof when he stumbles back.

I freeze. Under the row of lamps that light up the campus, I catch his profile. Then the rest of his face.

A bulbous nose, wide-set eyes, and a salt-and-pepper beard to cover his aging skin. He’s stocky with a buzzcut and a sickening, cocky smirk, gut sloping over his too-tight jeans and shiny leather belt.

He may be six years older than the last time I saw him, but I’d recognize him even in a nursing home.

Craig . Now he has a name.

I move slowly into the shadows, ducking around the corner of the dining hall. Heart in my chest, I glance back. They haven’t seen me.

With a trembling hand, I snap a photo of them.

When the girl kisses him, my stomach turns. How can a man like him have a girlfriend? Doesn’t she see the sickness in him?

If she hasn’t yet, she will. Men like him can only hide for so long. Then they have to let their fangs out.

Craig sets her down and takes her hand, meandering to the parking lot. “How were your classes?”

His voice alone makes bile rise in my throat. Hey, there. No need to be shy.

I shove the memories down, forcing myself to concentrate even as my heart gallops and anxiety seeps into every pore.

“Clinicals.” A bite of irritation in his girlfriend’s voice that he doesn’t pay enough attention to what she says to remember a damn thing that comes out of her mouth. Of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t care what comes out of her mouth—only what goes in it. “They were fine. But guess what? I heard about this spooky carnival that we have to go to! It sounds so fun!” She bounces, the excitement obvious in her huge grin. “It’s called Carnival of Terrors and everyone goes in costume! I was thinking we could go Friday night.”

“You bringing Amelia?”

“I don’t know. It might be a little too scary for her.”

“Huh. I don’t know. Maybe.” His interest is waning, and panic drums in my chest. Who the fuck is Amelia?

“I’ll ask her,” the girlfriend adds quickly. “I’m sure she’d love to go.”

The smile returns to his face. “Sounds good.”

They reach his car, and he doesn’t bother opening the door for her. I wait until the headlights are out of sight before emerging.

I didn’t think I’d ever see any of the monsters from that night again, and now I’ve finally found one. Craig .

Maybe he’ll lead me to the others. Maybe I can finally find them all, and make them pay for what they did to me.

Brandon leads us into a huge house that feels more like a museum than a home. Towering ceilings, golden decor, pristine furniture without a speck of dust. Decadence and wealth beyond my wildest imagination.

Our footsteps echo across the shiny floor, and beside me, Autumn folds deeper into herself.

“Where the hell are we?” The annoyance is building to a breaking point now. Tonight was just supposed to be me and Brandon, him taking me on a special trip. Now it’s me, Brandon, and Autumn in some weird house.

He doesn’t answer, which only pisses me off further as he leads us to a room and eases the door open. He gestures for us to lead the way, and when we do, he follows and locks the door behind us.

My stomach goes leaden.

A few cots line the open room with little else. No decorations on the blank, white walls. No windows. No warmth.

On the cots are two men, both of them completely naked except for the white towels to cover the space between their lower backs and their knees.

“What the hell is going on?” I whisper, retreating a step. But Brandon is there, a wall behind me as his hands land on my shoulders.

He gives me and Autumn a reassuring smile that only makes my chest clench. “You two are going to massage them. Like you do to me.”

Panic seizes every muscle in my body. Like you do to me . The massages that Brandon told me I couldn’t tell anyone about. That people wouldn’t understand our relationship and we had to keep this secret between us until I graduated.

Now I’m learning that Autumn gives him those massages too. They’re not special. Not something he and I share alone.

And now he wants us to touch these strange, gross men.

I grab Autumn’s hand. She grips mine back, surprisingly strong for a girl so quiet, so timid. “No. We’re leaving.”

“Relax, Juliet. You’re getting paid. It’s just a job. Every man wants a pretty girl to give him a back rub. They’re high-paying customers, trust me.” He winks and that familiar feeling of disgust comes creeping back. The one I push away every time his hands brush against my body, every time I catch his gaze lingering too long on one of my teammates, every time he slips off his shirt and asks me to massage his shoulders. The disgust I shake off because he tells me he loves me and how special I am and makes me feel wanted in a way no one ever has.

The man with the dark beard and bulbous nose turns to smile at me, an eerie smirk that makes my heart hammer impossibly harder. “Come on over. We’re friendly.”

Beside me, Autumn vibrates with fear.

No part of me wants to touch either one of these men, but it’s clear by Brandon’s intimidating stance in front of the door that Autumn and I aren’t getting out of this room until we do.

“I’ll do it,” I mutter. “But don’t make Autumn do it.”

Brandon shakes his head, smile slipping away. “No. They want you both.”

I’m in a fog while I go through the motions, letting my mind carry me anywhere else, anywhere outside of this room while my hands roam over clammy skin.

At the cot across from me, tears stream down Autumn’s face.

Sienna stuffs her toothbrush in her overnight bag before swinging it over her shoulder. “I’m spending the night with Luke.”

Her side of our dorm is a sharp contrast to mine—florals and pastels to my muted monochrome. Her decorations are hockey memorabilia and photos of family and friends. Mine are a severed hand pencil holder and lenticular prints of vintage portraits that change to bloody vampires and skeletons when you move.

“You’re not walking there, are you?” I ask.

Marcus may be locked up for what he did to my best friend last semester, but we’ve learned our lesson: Don’t assume any corner of this campus is safe. Especially not while a crazed masked man is running around making girls blow him at knifepoint.

I still haven’t told Sienna about my masked man. We may be best friends, but Sienna and I have always had our secrets. Not to mention she’d call me insane and sic the Devils on me to follow me like bodyguards if I told her the truth. By the way, remember the scare actor who dragged me away at the haunt? Yeah, I almost let him fuck me, and he followed me to campus and made me blow him while he held a knife to my throat.

No. Not gonna happen. I’m keeping my mouth shut about this one.

“Luke is driving me.”

Three rapid knocks at the door make her jump. I laugh. I love my best friend, but my god does she scare easily. Somehow, that makes me love her even more. She’s the soft center to my hard shell. The scared little bunny to my feral black cat. On the surface, we might seem like total opposites, but we make it work. I couldn’t ask for a better, more loyal best friend. And I know if shit went down, she’d save my ass. Just like I’d do for her.

Luke better hope he doesn’t hurt her. I’d commit murder for less.

“Speak of the devil.”

A giddy grin blooms across Sienna’s face. I’ve never seen my best friend in love like this before. They are sickeningly sweet together. I’d barf if she wasn’t my best friend.

Sienna practically skips to swing the door open and throws herself at Luke before he can get a word out. He laughs, lifting her off her feet and squeezing. They kiss and whisper to each other for so long, I let out an exaggerated groan. “You have an audience. I already ate too much today and anything could trigger my barf reflex.”

My best friend doesn’t even look back as she flips me off over her shoulder. Luke winks. “Don’t be surprised if you don’t have a roommate for a few days. She might be tied down to my bed.”

Sienna squeals and smacks his arm. “Don’t tell her that!”

I leap out of bed and charge for the door, not giving a shit that I’m in nothing but a t-shirt and panties, no bra. Luke doesn’t have eyes for anyone other than Sienna. “If you make me puke, I’ll make sure I projectile vomit all over you.”

He chuckles and starts to pull Sienna away before I stop them.

“Wait!” I was planning on casually bringing up the subject, but now I don’t have a choice other than blurting it out before she leaves. “Do you recognize this girl?”

I show Sienna the photo on my phone of Craig and the girl in scrubs. If she’s a nursing student, there’s a chance Sienna might know who she is.

She squints at the couple in the dark, the lamp behind them emitting just enough light to display their features. “Oh! Yeah, that’s Lindsey Rothwell. Why did you take a picture of her and her boyfriend?”

“Because he looks a thousand years older than her.” The lie rolls off my tongue so easily, Sienna believes it.

She shrugs. “He’s in his forties, I guess. Some people are into age gaps.”

Craig is into bigger age gaps than either of them realizes.

“And some people are into masked men.” Luke grins down at Sienna, and she blushes.

“Ew. Thank you. You can leave now.” I slam the door behind them.

I drain the rest of my coffee before settling into the chair at my desk. I search Sienna’s followers for Lindsey Rothwell and quickly find a public profile of a pretty girl who posts nearly every day. Selfies, group photos with other smiling nursing students, mirror photos to show off her outfits.

I don’t have to scroll long to find him. Craig is present in only a few of her selfies, and it’s clear by the way she doesn’t tag him in the photos that he told her not to.

A young girl is featured in a ton of her posts. She’s not tagged either, but the captions tell me this is Lindsey’s sister, Amelia.

Amelia . My stomach drops. She can’t be older than thirteen.

Clearly, Lindsey isn’t the only one Craig is interested in. From the way the light dulled in his eyes when Lindsey said Amelia might not be going with them to the carnival, he may not be interested in Lindsey at all.

My empty hand curls into a fist. I could kill him. I could fucking kill him.

Under a photo of Lindsey kissing Craig’s hairy cheek, a few comments call them a cute couple and one in particular stands out from an account called craigslist16. Your so beautiful . A misspelled you’re followed by a string of emojis with hearts for eyes.

Yep, that’s the guy.

Heart in my throat, I click. What if his account leads me to the rest of them?

His account is public. Bold. His profile picture is him holding up a fish, and his bio is sparse: Beer. Trucks. Fishing.

He doesn’t post much, only a few photos that have been swiped through filters. A beer can, fishing gear, a truck covered in mud. Then there are the few photos of him with his arm around another woman with captions referring to her as his wife. One he posted as recently as yesterday.

No wonder Lindsey doesn’t tag him in photos.

Does the wife not know? Maybe she doesn’t keep tabs on who her husband is following on his social media or concern herself about where he goes after dark. Or maybe she knows and just doesn’t give enough of a shit to do anything about it. Easier to stay with a cheater than leave.

But Lindsey obviously knows. Craig is way worse—a literal criminal—but they’re both shitty.

I scroll all the way to the bottom, and thank god, there’s no sign of any kids.

Relief relaxes my tense shoulders and sends a rush of air out of my lungs.

No sign of the other men from that night. I should’ve known better than to expect it would be that easy.

But I know where Craig will be Friday evening. He’ll tell me everything I need to know.

Now I just need to figure out where to find this Carnival of Terrors.

When I prop open my laptop, a loud groan echoes.

My spine stiffens. What the fuck? That sounded like porn. I don’t watch that shit on my laptop—I watch it on my phone like a normal person.

My screen displays the camera feed from Trey Lamont’s bedroom. He’s... holy shit . He’s fucking naked .

Splayed out on his bed, arm tucked behind his head, Trey groans as he rolls his fist over his long, stiff cock. Even through a camera feed, its length and girth make my mouth go dry.

He has something wrapped around his cock. Thin black fabric?—

Panties. Panties that look all too fucking familiar.

I jump up. No, there’s no way he could’ve gotten them. I dig through my top drawer, searching for the pair of panties I wore to the haunt before I dig through my laundry basket.

They’re not in here.

He took my fucking underwear. Somehow, he broke into my dorm and stole them, and now he’s jerking off with them.

My hands curl into fists as I round on my laptop, as if he can possibly see me seething through the camera. Did he break into my dorm and steal my panties before or after I broke into the Devils’ house? Those are my favorite pair and now he’s ruining them. Even if he somehow gave them back, I’d never be able to look at them the same.

His low moan sends a shiver skittering down my spine. “That’s it, Juliet. Ride my cock like a bad girl.”

My mouth falls open. He’s literally jerking off with my panties to the thought of me. I’m sure it’s not the first time a man has ever jerked off to fantasies of me, but at least I don’t have to know about it, let alone witness the act.

In my chest, my heart thumps harder, warmth spreading to the space between my thighs. Something is wrong with me. I shouldn’t enjoy seeing Trey Lamont masturbate with my panties, shouldn’t enjoy hearing him moan my name, but my body’s involuntary reaction tells me I’m enjoying every second of this.

Too bad he’s a psychopath. From this angle, Trey’s face looks perfect for riding.

If I was there, he’d jerk off with my panties wrapped around his cock while I grinded my pussy against his face, his tongue lapping at me wildly as he savored my taste flooding his mouth.

My clit throbs. I want to stroke my palms over the hard ridges of his abdomen, across the defined pecs on his chest, down to the V-shaped lines above his groin?—

No . I don’t want Trey Lamont. I want my masked man in the woods, and I’m projecting my fantasies onto Trey simply because of his gorgeous, naked, writhing body.

Still, no matter how much I tell myself to stop, my hand slides down my panties. My breath catches when my finger scrapes over my clit.

On his bed, Trey shifts, and I bite my lip, worried he’s about to stop. Instead, he braces himself on one hand and thrusts into the other, still gripping his cock and my panties. “ Fuck ,” he hisses. “Spread those legs. Good girl. Fucking take it.”

Jesus Christ . His mouth is obscene and I shouldn’t love it as much as I do.

My finger involuntarily rubs a circle over my clit and I bite back a moan. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be getting off to an unhinged psycho like Trey Lamont getting off to me. I need to stop. He needs to stop. He needs to drop my fucking panties?—

“You love my huge cock breaking you in half, don’t you? I’m going to make you my little cum slut.”

The hand that isn’t buried in my panties curls into a fist. The hell he is. I’m not going to be his anything. “Fuck you.”

“God, you’re so fucking wet. I can’t wait to spill every drop inside you. Clench that tight little pussy on my cock. Take every inch.”

“Stop jerking off with my panties!” I shout as if he can hear me. As if my finger isn’t dipping into the wetness between my legs waiting for him.

“I’m going to come inside you.” His voice breaks with the warning as he thrusts his hips faster and harder, his mattress squeaking. That bed would be so loud if it was actually me he was fucking on that mattress.

My clit starts to burn as my finger rubs frantically, heart and blood pumping frantically as the pleasure builds. I can’t stop watching him fuck his hand, even if I wanted to. I’m mesmerized by the delicious curve of his ass and the bulging muscles on his arms as he thrusts and groans.

“Come on my cock,” he pants. “Scream for me.”

Scream for me . Those three words shouldn’t be my undoing, but electricity pulses from my clit until my pussy is clenching and the pleasure barrels through me.

I cry out, bracing myself against the desk before my trembling legs can collapse beneath me. “Fuck, yes,” I gasp. “Fuck me like your bad fucking girl.”

A sharp groan that’s almost a shout echoes from my laptop as Trey collapses onto his mattress, pumping his cock violently as he catches every drop of cum in my panties.

I grit my teeth. Yeah, they’re fucking ruined.

My heart hammers as the orgasm begins to ebb. My pussy still aches, unsatisfied from not being filled. One orgasm wasn’t enough to satiate me. Not after watching Trey Lamont pretend to fuck me.

On the screen, he straightens until he’s perched on his knees and examines his handiwork. His cum drips from my panties and a grin that would give any sane woman nightmares spreads across his face.

When his sharp green eyes find mine, my heart stops. “Hope you enjoyed the show.”

He can’t possibly see me watching him. Still, my heart thunders like I’ve been caught. Like he can see me as clearly as I can see him. Like he knows I was getting off to him just as he was getting off to me.

He found the camera. He gave this little performance on purpose because he knew I’d be watching. Clearly, I need to work on my stalking skills.

Trey stands and saunters toward the camera with that devastating grin. “Thanks for the new pet.”

He nods to the corner, the edge of a tank barely visible in the lens. Inside, a tarantula crawls into a flower pot.

I should’ve known he’d make a pet out of the spider I planted to scare the shit out of him. Admittedly, I’m glad he didn’t kill the poor thing. We bonded on our journey breaking into Trey’s room, and I was worried about his fate when I left him behind.

Knowing he’s taking care of a spider shouldn’t make my heart squeeze. Just a little.

With a twisted smile, the Devil holds up my panties dripping with his cum. “You’re next, Juliet.”