Page 22 of Fright Night (Twisted Holidays #3)
KNOX
One Year Later
The benefit of getting my apprenticeship in electrical engineering is working for the company that Oakley hired to wire the power in the building she had erected for her upcoming business.
Across the street from the single-story glass-front shop with the large sign reading, Trickster’s Events , I reread her text.
Trickster
I’m running late to hand out candy, but I’ll be there soon. Finishing up final touches at the shop. Could you get the bowls ready?
Sorry, kids. Trick-or-treating isn’t happening this year. Not at our house, anyway.
Last December, Oakley left her City Hall job and immediately started under another local event planner, learning the ropes while completing a one-year college diploma.
Although she’s not finished for another few months, she opened her online business in the summer to start gathering clientele.
Since she’s doing well, she’s now able to open a physical location to work out of.
I’m so fucking proud of her.
She’s proving our parents—who’ve barely spoken to us in the past year, making for uncomfortable family gatherings—wrong.
It officially opens to the public next week, and she’s been working hard at ensuring all is ready. So hard, she’s running late on our Halloween plans. A holiday she now claims to be her favourite.
No matter, because I’ve changed the plans.
Heading around the back side of the building, I know where in the backroom the electrical panel is. I know how to get inside, thanks to the building key she gave me, and I know which exact switch to flick that’ll kill the entire building’s power.
The second I flick it and the whole place is washed in darkness, her groan comes from the front. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
Smiling, I slide my mask over my face, twirl my knife, and go hunting.
Of course, nothing comes easy. A scrape here, a thump there. Enough the ghostly noises start stressing her out. But our time together—the best year of my life so far, even if the upcoming years are about to get better—has her knowing me all too well.
“Knox, guessing that’s you. Ass!”
My chuckle travels down the hallway towards her office, reassuring her it is me and not an actual killer but remaining otherwise silent, to hide my exact location.
My steps are nearly silent, paced as I head down the hallway by sticking to the darkest shadows, well away from the tell-tale glow of her phone and laptop.
Her desk is facing away, which puts her back to the hallway—the perfect position for me to lunge from my hiding place.
Arm wrapping her waist, the other drags the dull side of the knife along her throat. My mask slides against her cheek, and her head falls to the side, her submissive nature coming out to play.
“Trick or treat, Trickster. Scared?”
“No.”
“You should be. Now, get on your hands and knees and show me how sweet you can really be.”
“And if I don’t?” The smile in her voice has me hardening immediately, but two can play that game, and I flip my blade around in my hand, letting her see the knife for herself.
“Then be ready to scream.”