Page 2 of The Stalker (Ashburne Chronicles #2)

Is That You

B ianka

I hate mirrors. I learned that the hard way.

Once, I used to spend hours in front of one, trying on outfits, practicing smiles, curling my dark hair just to see what shape it took in the light. Back when life was simple. Back when my face was mine.

But not anymore.

Now I avoid them. Every reflective surface is a reminder of what I lost—smooth skin, symmetry, any semblance of normalcy.

The car crash stripped it all away in a storm of fire and glass.

What’s left is twisted, ridged, and cruel.

A roadmap of pain carved down the right side of my face, across my jaw, and over my shoulder, trailing like a snake down my back.

I tell myself I should be grateful. Alive is better than dead. Isn’t it? But sometimes when I look at myself, I wonder if it would’ve been easier if I hadn’t crawled out of that wreck.

I ran home the moment they discharged me from the hospital. Back to the safety of the town I grew up in and ran from the moment I got my diploma. Now I’m back in my mother’s old house and grateful I never had the heart to sell the place.

Ashburne itself hasn’t changed much. It still has the same cracked sidewalks, the same sagging porches, and the same whispers that travel faster than smoke. When I came back last year, I thought maybe the familiarity would feel like home. Instead, it’s just a prison with longer bars.

People stare. They think I don’t notice, but I do. The quick glances, the pity in their eyes, the way their gaze catches on my scars before darting away. I hear the words they don’t say.

Ugly.

Broken.

Damaged.

And maybe they’re right.

I tug the collar of my sweater higher around my neck, hiding what I can. The fabric scratches, but it’s better than the burn of their stares.

Halloween has always been my favorite night of the year. But not anymore. Now the masks and costumes feel like a mockery. They get to play at being monsters, but I am one. I live with mine carved into my skin every day.

I step out onto the porch, hugging myself against the October chill.

The air smells like woodsmoke and sugar.

The neighborhood kids’ laughter echoes down the street and I almost smile.

Almost. I should find some sort of comfort in the sound and the normalcy of what is happening around me, but I don’t. I just feel alone.

I hear a sound and spin around, thinking perhaps the cat next door was on my porch again. But no, this is a different creature altogether.

Griffin Hayes.

For a second, I think my mind is playing tricks on me. That the town is haunted, that maybe I’m seeing a ghost dredged up from the past. But no ... he’s there, real, and stepping out of the shadows like he’s been waiting for me.

My breath stutters.

He’s broader now, taller, his presence filling the porch like he was carved out of the night itself. His dark hair is longer than I remember, his jaw harder. And his eyes? God, those eyes. They used to be kind. Now they look like they’ve been set on fire.

“Griffin?” My voice cracks around his name. I haven’t spoken it in five years, not since high school, not since I ran away from my life, from him, and from this damn town. I never thought I’d see him again. I didn’t even know he was still in Ashburne until right this minute.

But here he is, on my porch, on Halloween night, staring at me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he says.

His voice is low, rough, and threaded with something I don’t recognize. It’s not the voice of the boy I once knew. It’s darker, heavier, like the sound of a promise and a threat all tangled together.

My heart hammers against my ribs and I take a step back, my heel brushing against the door behind me. The smart thing would be to go inside, to lock the damn door, and call someone. But I can’t move.

Because beneath the fear clawing at my ribs, there’s something else. Something I don’t want to admit. Desire.

I’ve always had a crush on Griffin. Always.

The boy who sat two desks over, who carried books for me when my hands were too full, who smiled like he knew all my secrets but promised not to tell.

I used to dream about him touching me, kissing me, choosing me.

But I never acted on any of that. He was the most popular boy in school and I was just a chubby girl with her nose stuck in a book.

And that was before. Before the accident. Before I became this. Now? Now it feels impossible. He’s beautiful, just like he always has been and I’m ruined.

The longer we stare at each other, the more confused I become. The way he looks at me ... it’s not pity. It’s hunger. But that’s not possible. Is it?

“Griffin...” I whisper, but the rest of the words lodge in my throat. What are you doing here? Why now? Why me?

I don’t get the chance to ask. Because he steps closer, into my personal space and the air between us shifts, becoming heavy, electric, and slightly dangerous. My pulse beats like a trapped bird in my throat.

This isn’t normal. Something is very wrong here, I just can’t seem to put my finger on it but it feels ... dark.

“You’re...” I choke on the words. “You’re back in town?”

He smiles, but it isn’t a kind smile, or even remotely the way he used to smile at me. It’s sharp, like a wolf baring its teeth. “I never left.”

That can’t be right. I would have known. In a town as small as Ashburne, you always know who stays and who goes. People gossip too much and stories spread like wildfire through this community. But looking at him and hearing the certainty in his voice, I believe him.

Which means ... he’s been here all along. Realization slams into me as I finally see the truth. He has been watching me.

A chill skitters down my spine as my hand finds the doorknob behind me, slick with sweat. I tell myself I should go inside, shut him out, and pretend this never happened. But my fingers won’t turn the lock.

Because part of me, a part I’m unsure I can trust, doesn’t want to walk away from him.

“Why are you here?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

His gaze drags over me, slow, and deliberate, like he’s memorizing every inch. When his eyes return to mine, there’s no hesitation. “Because you are.”

My throat tightens and I want to tell him he’s crazy. That I’m not worth his time, not worth anyone’s time. That he’s better off pretending I don’t exist. But the words shrivel before they reach my tongue.

Because something in the way he says it makes me feel ... wanted.

And that terrifies me.

I catch a flicker in his expression, a shadow moving across his face, though nothing passes between us. For a heartbeat, his features distort, his dark eyes flash an almost green, like someone else is staring out from behind them.

I blink, and it’s gone. But I remember the stories, tales of dark nights in Ashburne that have been whispered since before I was a kid.

About Halloween, about the veil thinning, and about people being possessed by spirits that force them to reveal their true selves.

I used to laugh ... after all, ghost stories are for bored small-town kids.

But tonight, I don’t laugh. I can’t. Because Griffin doesn’t feel like just Griffin anymore. He feels like something more. Something dangerous.

“Bianka,” he murmurs, drawing me out of my thoughts. Hearing my name on his lips after all these years makes my stomach clench.

I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him . But God help me, I do.

I always have.