Page 54 of Terror Tuesday

Dad’s chest expands with a deep inhale. “So we don’t know if he’s telling the truth or…”

“Covering something up,” Aiden finishes. But the three of us can guess which answer is the truth. A moment of tense silence passes between the three of us.

Raking his fingers through his black hair, Aiden gives me a soft look. One he only reserves for Mom, usually. “Do you want me to walk you back to the house?”

“No. I’m good. I’m sad. And I feel, well,confusedabout Hunter. But I’ll be fine. I’ll make the press conference tomorrow and go to the vigil on Sunday.”

An irritating darkness overwhelms me. One threatening to take over. The person I was when I poisoned Lakin’s brownies never fully left. She was ruthless. Calculated. A strategist who punished injustice with a glittering smile. The one my father used to call his blade.

So tonight?

I’m taking my knife and wielding it close to me as I venture toward the cathedral…

To kill a murderer.

fifteen

It’sa chilly autumn evening filled with fog and dread. Part of me feels like Christine meeting the Phantom beneath the Opera as I enter the unlocked sanctuary doors. My footsteps slap across the stones, echoing up to the vast, buttressed ceiling. I’ve never been in the catacombs, but there’s a first time for everything.

And if my stalker shows up tonight, well…he’ll already be in the right place.

The hilt trembles in my hand as I flick my blade open, holding it in front of me.

I rarely wear jeans. Rarer still that I carry a weapon. But here I am, treading carefully down the steps, headed either toward my demise…or his.

Why did I decide to do this? I’m now regretting my decision-making capacity. I felt so self-assured in the daylight. Like maybe my father was right about me all along. That the girl who wields strength like second nature was just under the surface.

Now, I think about turning around and hiding in my bed.

But there’s this person inside of me. One I feel like Icouldknow if only the bad stuff hadn’t happened to me.

And she’sscreamingto get out.

As I take a step down the path, it feels as if she’s drawn closer to the surface.

Flickering candles create spectral flames that dance along the corridor. When I reach the main landing, I’m shocked by how clean it is. Tidy. Almost reverent. But the air is too still. This antechamber is a mask—something curated to deceive.

A chalk arrow points toward a heavy wooden door, its iron hinges dusted with rust. It stands slightly ajar. A tall, dark figure disappears through it, just far enough ahead to quicken my pulse.

I follow.

Through the door stretches a narrow stone hallway. The sconces are fewer here, the shadows longer. As the wall curves left, something scrawled in white chalk catches my eye.

With a creeping step, I approach to read the words.

Pig. Thick Livy. Ogre. Unfuckable.

My breath catches. Every word hits like a blade to the chest. The exact insults I’ve heard since I was twelve years old. Childhood playground cruelty etched into stone. Each one makes my eyes well up with hatred and pain. How dare he?

I stagger past them, blinking hard. My jaw locks. Rage wars with humiliation inside me—old wounds ripped open raw in a single glance.

Just around the next bend, the door I came through slams shut. A scream rips from my lungs as every muscle jumps inside me. Rushing back the way I came, I try to press my weight against it, but it won’t budge.

I’m trapped.

The only way out…is forward.

With a tight throat, I swallow hard and turn back, facing those chalked words again. I hate that they still sting. Detest more that he knew exactly what would cut the deepest. Around the next bend in the stone walls, my stomach churns as more shine like diamonds against the weeping stones.