Page 10 of Fright Night (Twisted Holidays #3)

NINE

KNOX

Witching hour. When the powers between one world and another are the weakest.

Or, so the stories go, if that supernatural shit is to be believed.

Midnight for me is simply the time I return to Oakley’s house for my trick—my torment for her actions.

Although…today had pleasant side-effects too. The other night when I unlocked her phone with her sleeping face, it gave me complete access into her cell to do my own digging. And wouldn’t you know, I found the group text chain between the three of them, where Jill confirmed morning brunch.

I hadn’t planned on interacting with Oakley outside our private one-on-one interactions yet, but it was too good an opportunity to pass by.

It gave a giant middle finger to my father, who not so shockingly never told his wife that her stepson is home, and let me stand up for Oakley.

Again. Because someone has to if it won’t be her.

Returning tonight is for my amusement, nothing further. The main attraction will be tomorrow evening at her event.

Her house is dark, only the living room front window spilling any light into the place. I step quietly and drop the stack of brochures and paperwork onto her coffee table before heading for the hallway, mask donned.

On my way to her room, I drop a duffle bag of clothing into the spare empty room—soon to be mine. The bag is a symbol of what’s to come, and it’s one she’ll understand.

In her bedroom, my eyes take a second to adjust, given the lack of light coming from the window; her curtains sealed nice and tight.

Oakley’s stretched on her back, one leg half off the mattress, which spreads her legs into a V beneath the comforter.

Hair is tossed over her face, which is pushed into the pillow.

Her breaths are steady, her sleep probably filled with happiness and smiles and so unaware of the monster hovering over her.

She can keep sleeping—for now.

Smiling, I tug the rope from my pocket and move around the bed, tying each limb to a bedpost while checking her to see if she wakes. Knocked out from a day of event planning and stress searching for me, she does not.

Since I already rooted around her room before taping myself the other night, I’m aware there’s a black satin sleep mask in her nightstand’s drawer, which I retrieve. Testing the elastic once, I push it over her head and into place so when she eventually wakes, it’ll be to darkness.

Then I settle onto the end of the bed, pull one knee up, and watch her sleep.