Page 89 of Horror and Chill

He steps inside like he owns the place, which is ironic since his girl literally does.

“Perfect,” Chad says, like this is normal, like Kylo joins other cammers all the time. He presses another replica knife into Kylo’s hand. “Closet first, crack the door so we see your mask and hand. Then step out from behind the chair. Agatha will progressively undress. Then react. Simple.”

My grip tightens on the phone.

Kylo rolls his eyes. “Relax. Lo said you’d want a familiar face with all the shit going on.” His voice is flat. “I screen the vids. I help pick the newbies. I’ve seen it all already.” His stare pins me like a nail through soft skin. “Keep your cunt to yourself and Lo’ll let you keep your hands.”

My stomach knots because it’s not justhimstanding there—it’s Lorna’s man. My boss’s man. If I slip, if I cross a line, she’ll know. She always knows. And she’s the one who signs my checks, books my shoots, decides if I’m worth keeping around.

I can almost see her in my head, blue hair, and sharp eyes, smiling like she’s already caught me. What the hell am I doing kneeling here in fishnets and glitter, withhimwatching?

The mask hides my face, thank God. It can’t hide the way my chest rises too fast or the heat curling low in my belly. My body’sa traitor, answering him anyway, even with Lorna’s shadow hanging over me.

I kneel in the middle of the fur, and then my head does the worst thing possible; it drifts to them. Evander. Garron. Corwin. The terror triplets. They already killed one man just for touching me. My throat goes dry. They’d do it again without blinking. But Kylo? Jesus. They can’t. Theycan’t. That would ruin me. That would ruin Lorna. My girl doesn’t deserve that.

I’m gonna have to text them. Threaten them if I have to. Tell them to keep their blades to themselves.

I suck in a breath. My chest tightens.

Wait. When the fuck did I start thinking of them asmymen?

They’re not mine. They can’t be mine. I can’t even handle one man. Barely managed to survive past lovers. And now I’m entertaining the idea of three? Three obsessed, violent men who stalk me in shadows and masks? The triplets of terror?

I’m insane. Completely insane.

And still, the thought burns hot in my chest.

Chad claps his hands. “Alright. Let’s roll.”

The mask is hot on my face already, the boa now itching against my bare shoulders. I shift on my knees, the fur rug prickling under me. I hold the phone up to my ear, twirling the cord between my fingers like I'm on a mid-flirty call.

“Good,” Chad praises from behind the camera. “Tilt your head. Yeah, like you’re listening to something filthy.”

I do it, mask cocked, boa sliding. My knees ache against the floor, but I arch my back a little, pretending to gasp into the receiver. My body’s the whole story; mask or not, it doesn’t matter.

The closet door creaks. Just a sliver at first. I wouldn’t even notice if not for the mirror behind Chad, hanging crooked on the door. In it, I catch Kylo’s mask filling the crack. He waits there, still, like some horror-movie cutout.

“Perfect,” Chad says. “Stay in character, Agatha. Don’t look at him yet.”

I drag the phone cord across my chest, sliding the receiver down my body, between my legs, then back up again. Acting. Posing. The heat in my belly has nothing to do with performance, though, and that’s the part that unsettles me most.

The closet opens wider. Kylo steps out, knife in his grip. He doesn’t hurry. He just stands there at first, silent, letting me know he’s watching.

Chad hums. “Okay, Agatha, peel it off slowly. Top first.”

My fingers fumble at the clasp, undoing it, letting the bra fall. The boa slips down, feathers scattering. I arch for the camera, mask tilted just right.

Movement again. Kylo’s closer now. He’s behind the wicker chair, knife at his side, towering. I can feel him without looking, the weight of his stare.

Chad’s voice sharpens. “Now act spooked. Let the phone cord drag. Don’t overthink it—just move.”

I shift, twisting like I’m startled, the phone slipping from my hand. The cord tangles around my arm as I scramble, feet sliding on the fur. I fall onto my back, mask flashing, knife clattering away. My chest heaves, body arching like prey.

Kylo steps into frame fully, shadow swallowing me.

I can’t see his face under the mask, but I don’t need to. My legs trembling in fishnets, the cord biting into my skin, my breath sharp and shallow like I’ve really been caught.

“Yes,” Chad calls, lowering the camera. “That’s it. We’ve got plenty. You nailed it.”