Page 51 of Executing Malice (Jefferson Rejects #4)

LEILA

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The road is uneven wherever he’s taking me.

It jostles and rattles the frame with every sharp dip. The shoulder holding my weight begins to ache. My arm is asleep. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving for, but he was right, not a soul heard me screaming and kicking.

What’s more, the asshole hasn’t even bothered to put the radio on, so I know he can hear me. Hear every name I call him, every plea to let me out. He heard me break down in tears and when I vowed to bite his dick off. He just chose to ignore them all.

I will kill him.

That’s a promise.

The second he opens this trunk, I’m going to kick him in the balls.

But the drive is so far. It seems like hours and I’m beginning to think we’re leaving Jefferson.

There’s air, thankfully, but it’s definitely thin.

Even with the cool air outside, the cramped space is muggy and stifling.

It’s not unbearable yet, but I can feel myself drifting. My eyelids slip and I doze .

I don’t think it’s for long.

We’re not moving when I open them again. Everything is still and quiet.

“Dante?” My voice cracks, scratchy from screaming and sleep.

I lift a fist to bang on the hood, but the thing pops open. Clean, sweet air rushes into my coffin and I gasp. My body jerks upright and I stare ... into nothing.

Miles of endless darkness. Silence. There is nothing but the faint hiss of wind through the branches and the odd chirp of a cricket.

My heart thumps in my chest, frantic, but not fully convinced yet that he would desert me.

Gingerly, I feel my way along the edges of the trunk and ease myself out. I flinch at the first brush of grass against my injured feet. As my stiff limbs unfurl and circulate blood.

“Dante?” I call again.

Nothing.

Just the pounding in my chest as I hazard a step forward.

My toe hits the corner of something solid. I crouch, fingers extended, grappling in the dark as I skim the smooth surface of a box.

The box on his bed, I realize with a weird, misplaced sense of excitement.

I tear off the top and fumble inside .

Wads of fabric spill through my fingers. The inconsistency has me drawing it out, surprised by the weight until something metal clatters back inside the box.

I reach for it and give a cry of delight when my hand closes around the smooth shaft of a flashlight.

I flick the beam on, and the sudden burst of white cuts through the suffocating dark.

The trees leap back from me, their bark gnarled and twisted, shadows stretching long like they’re reaching for my ankles.

My pulse kicks, sharp and frantic, but beneath it all is a zap of excitement that has me questioning my sanity.

“Okay,” I breathe slowly to myself, calming my nerves while turning my attention to the box.

A small bundle of clothes lies at my feet. White and pristine against the dirt. There isn’t nearly enough to cover anything, but it’s better than being naked, I suppose.

The shoes are stiff, the material as white as the socks.

The white uniform is a different story. Short, plaited skirt, crop top that sits just under my naked tits with a bold, black D across the front — don’t need to be a scientist to guess what that stands for.

The skirt barely covers my bare ass. I have to chuckle as I drag everything on and examine myself in the light.

A cheerleader.

Interesting choice .

I adjust the hem, tugging uselessly to cover more skin, but ultimately giving up and turning my focus on my surroundings. I flash the light forward, sweeping the woods. Nothing but endless trees, branches rattling together overhead in an almost mocking applause.

Somewhere in the distance, a twig snaps.

My heart stops.

I spin, beam jerking wildly, breath catching in my throat.

Nothing.

Only the night pressing closer.

“Dante?” My voice sounds thin, swallowed by apprehension that maybe he has actually left me here.

No answer. Just the silence I’m choking on.

I start forward, walking carefully along the sliver of path cutting through dense shrubbery. The flashlight sits clutched between my fingers, a weapon and a guide as the crunch of leaves beneath my feet magnifies, giving away my position.

A cheerleader, lost in the woods.

A killer on the loose.

A game I asked for but suddenly feel like I’m about to lose.

Still, beneath the nerves, heat coils. The thrill of knowing he’s out there ... watching.

Hunting.

Waiting for me to slip .

God, help me, but I want him.

I want him to do everything he promised until I’m healing from the marks weeks later. I want to question our stability. I want to be disgusted and turned on every time I think about tonight.

“Come out, asshole,” I yell into the trees, because fuck him if he thinks he can scare me. “Or are you too much of a pussy?”

The beam of my light skitters through the trees, slicing shadows into sharper pieces. My breath fogs in the autumn-damp air. The night hums with the crunch of my feet, the whistle of the branches clacking overhead, the frantic hammer of my pulse.

I think maybe he didn’t hear me, or maybe I pissed him off enough that he’s going to make me suffer for it.

Then ... movement.

My hand jerks. The light strobes across rough bark, narrow gaps of darkness between the trees before catching on him.

On the figure thirty feet away, motionless. The halo of white traps him in place, an unmoving silhouette cut from the very night itself.

Dante.

But not .

He’s terror in the flesh. A hulking figure clad in leather pants, skintight over his thighs. His chest gleams with crimson streaks like his last victim had fought and lost, leaving claw marks as his trophy. The stain smears over muscle, across his stomach. His mask.

It covers only the lower half of his face, a jagged maw of fangs.

Grotesque and dripping red. But it’s his eyes .

.. God. White. All the dark gone so they glow in the light with an unnatural, inhuman blankness that cuts straight to my soul.

They fix on me with a possession so absolute, I forget why he’s even so far.

Until I spot the knife dangling loosely in his grip. Long, heavy, and so very real.

My heart kicks.

It escalates with the tilt of his head. The slow, deliberate cock that screams predator.

Fuck.

I bolt.

The forest explodes around me. Branches snap. Leaves thrash. My flashlight bounces in a dizzying beam ahead of me.

Behind me, I hear him. his footsteps impossibly steady. Measured. Like he doesn’t have to try to keep up.

My feet catch on a root. It propels my body forward, legs staggering as I catch myself, but keep running.

And he keeps coming .

The flashlight swings wildly, carving monstrous shapes out of every tree. My lungs burn, thighs ache, but I can’t stop now, not when he’s only a few feet behind me.

Another snap of a twig. Closer this time. My heart slams into my throat. I spin, light jerking behind me...

He’s right there.

Closer than he should be. Standing still, chest rising and falling, knife gleaming. His mask shines as if the red smeared across it is fresh, matching the wet streaks across all his beautiful muscles. He locks his inhuman eyes with mine and I swear even the forest holds its breath.

“Tired, little whore?” he rasps, voice low, distorted by the mask.

“Fuck you,” I pant, resisting the urge to double over to catch my breath.

Like he does this for a living, he twirls the knife flawlessly up and over the back of his knuckles then back into his fist.

“You’re going to, but not before I carve my name into all that beautiful skin.”

Heat spills down my thighs at the gruff promise.

The light rattles in my grip as I will my traitorous body to stumble back away from him .

And then he moves. Fast. Too fast. The woods explode with his pursuit, and I scream before I can stop myself. My body whirls and I tear forward.

I run until my lungs are knives. Branches claw at my face. Rip out my hair. They catch in my clothes. One snags my arm, jerking the flashlight free of my grasp. It spirals before striking the ground and flicking out.

I’m plunged into darkness. My scream sticks in my throat and I have to swallow it down as I hear him. The steady crunch of his boots.

The thump. Thump. Thump.

I hold my breath. Stay so fucking still. Praying that if I don’t move, he won’t see me, but I know that’s wishful thinking because in my uniform, I’m basically a beacon, glowing in the shadows.

Something hard slams into my back and I’m thrown down into the dirt with a cry. The collision adds fresh tears to my palms, my knees. I’m ready to curse him, but he’s on me.

Heavy. Breath hot through the jagged mask. His weight pins me, blood-slick chest pressing into my thin uniform.

“No!”

I thrash, nails clawing, legs kicking. The forest floor is a frenzy beneath us. He growls low in his throat as I’m caged in his muscles while he fights to catch my flailing arms .

He’s going to win. Even as I put everything into resisting, he’s going to overpower me. And my cunt clenches with anticipation. It gushes with searing liquid in preparation.

When he tears my top up over my tits, baring me, I know I’ve lost. I’m barely fighting anymore as he drops his blade over my heart, point puncturing the flesh beneath my thundering heart.

“Cock or knife, little whore?” he taunts.

He wouldn’t.

He’s not that crazy.

But then again, he’s proven time and time again that he definitely doesn’t have the same moral compass as normal people. Does that mean he’d fuck me with the knife?

“Get off me,” I pant, wishing I wasn’t so out of breath when he’s barely affected.

From somewhere to my right, a light flares on. It’s low to the ground, but it captures the sight of him straddling my stomach, knife fixed against my heart. It catches on the tiny bars fixed to my hardened nipples.

The flashlight.

The fall must have knocked something loose, but that’s not my problem right now as I stare up into white eyes and do something immensely stupid.

I smack his hand .