Page 135 of Horror and Chill

At night, I cam. Now ranked number two on the site. Right under Queen Lorna herself. She sent me a bottle of champagne last month with a note that saidTry not to dethrone me too fast, bitch.

The guys join me sometimes. Always masked. Usually one at a time—unless it’s request night. Then all three show up, working me over like it’s their full time job. The viewers eat itup. But the real secret is that none of it feels like performance anymore. It’s just us. Twisted and free.

We still hunt. Still kill. But it’s different now. Targeted. Focused. We only go after the ones who deserve it—the kind of men who made me, who made girls like me. No more killing for fun or jealousy. No more chaos for chaos’ sake. Just judgment.

This morning, they asked me to come to the funeral home after school. No reason given. Just a text from Garron that said,Wear something sexy and black. You’ll like it.

Like I ever say no to something creepy.

The parking lot is empty when I pull up; the air smells like rain. I walk inside, heels clicking against the tile, the faint scent of lilies and formaldehyde wrapping around me. The parlor is dim, all low lamps and velvet curtains, and they’re waiting there.

My boys. My monsters. My men.

Corwin’s leaning against a pew, smirking like he’s got a secret he can barely hold in. Garron’s standing tall beside him, broad and steady, eyes glinting. And Evander is holding something in his hand. A small black box.

“What’s this?” I ask, stepping closer. My boots squeak softly against the polished floor.

Evander’s mouth curves into a smile. “Open it.”

The box creaks when I lift the lid.

Inside is a ring. A match to theirs, but delicate. Feminine. The metal dark, cool. In the center, a tiny coffin-shaped black gem gleams.

I laugh softly. “About time you gave me one of these,” I sass, though my voice wavers just enough to betray me.

Garron’s the first to answer, voice low and solid. “You earned it, Little Horror. We want you now and forever.”

Evander’s comes next, quiet but sure. “You’re one of us, Agatha. You always were. We just needed to make it official. You rule our hearts and our house.”

Then Corwin, grinning like the devil himself. “We were gonna get matching tattoos too, but figured this’d hurt less—and look hotter when you’re naked.”

I shake my head, a laugh bubbling out of me as I slide the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly. Of course it does.

Garron steps forward first, hands on either side of my face, his kiss deep and steady. Evander follows, his mouth softer, reverent, the kind of kiss that says forever. Then it’s Corwin’s turn, he’s rougher, his tongue sliding against mine like he’s marking me all over again.

When I pull back, I’m breathless, dizzy.

The ring catches the light. It glows dark and perfect, just like us.

“I guess this makes me officially one of the family,” I whisper.

Corwin grins. “Oh, Little Horror—you’ve been family since the first time we chased you through the woods.”

I laugh, low and wicked. “Guess I should’ve run faster.”

Evander leans in, his forehead against mine. “Never run again.”

For a moment, it’s all warmth and laughter and the kind of quiet that feels safe, even here, surrounded by death. Then Garron’s voice cuts through it, thoughtful, heavy.

“It’s been a year,” he says. “And we’ve got to ask, because it’s been eating at us.” His gaze catches mine. “What did our dad whisper to you that day? In the house, when you first met him?”

I raise a brow. “You sure you wanna know?”

Evander answers for them all. “We do.”

I sigh. “He threatened me,” I admit. “Told me if I eventhoughtabout turning you three in, he’d make sure the game we played with the church was child’s play compared to what he’d do to someone who hurt his family.”

Corwin growls, low and dangerous. “I’m calling him right the fuck now.”