3. Run

3

Run

Violet

The scream that rips out of me cuts off in a sob as Liam's body slumps to the ground.

The stranger doesn't so much as flinch. And while every survival instinct tells me to run, I can't help jumping out of the car and rushing for Liam instead.

My knees scrape the pavement as I drop to where his body is twisted on the road. I plant my hands on his throat, trying to stop the blood pouring out, but it seeps between my fingers and drips onto the ground.

"Liam." Tears streak down my cheeks, and my heart races as I watch what's left of the light leaving his eyes. "Stay with me."

His mouth falls open as he chokes for a breath, but all that comes out is blood .

Every cold thing he's ever said or done is forgotten as I hold him. I've witnessed so much death it doesn't matter if I wasn't in love with him; I can't bear the sight of losing one more person.

Maybe if I'd stayed at the dorm tonight, he would have stayed with me. We might have still fought about something small and random because that's what we're good at. But we wouldn't have been out here in the middle of the night. On a road with no other cars and a killer waiting.

Maybe if I'd done this all differently, this wouldn't have happened.

Blood spurts out, and I know there's no hope. I've seen death enough—and in so many ways—that I knew he was gone the moment the stranger's blade sliced open his throat. Still, I hold on and hope for the impossible.

I think back to the time I spent at a hospital growing up. My mom worked so many graveyard shifts, she brought me with her sometimes and let me sleep in the on-call room. It wasn't allowed, but the other nurses didn't tell on her so long as I stayed put.

One night, I got bored and snuck out to wander the halls. A girl my age had been brought in after slitting her wrists. Her blood soaked the sheets wrapped around her forearms, and she was so pale she matched the stark white walls of the room they put her in.

I heard them say she wouldn't live.

But she did.

She did .

Only this isn't that day, and we aren't where anyone can help us.

"Hmm." The stranger takes a step toward me. His black boots cut into my line of sight as he steps into the pool of blood on the ground. "Interesting."

Interesting ?

My blood boils at his comment. I should be afraid. I should probably run. But with the bubble of rage ripping through me, I look up at him with narrowed eyes instead. I face the neon blue glow of his grinning mask as he gleams down at me against the backdrop of a star-speckled sky.

"You killed him."

The stranger ticks his head to the side, watching me. "And you're sad about it?"

Liam's body is still. Cooling, even as the heat of his blood still warms my hands. His eyes are wide and empty as they stare up at us.

"Of course I'm sad about it." I release Liam's throat and sink back onto my heels. "He's my boyfriend."

Blood paints my hands. Coats my arms. Drips on the bare skin peeking through my fishnets. But Liam is gone.

The masked stranger steps forward, reaching a hand for my jaw. He smears the blood from his fingers onto my cheek, and at first, I think it's an accident until he smears in a little more.

"He's not worth your tears, Violet."

I jerk my face from his grip. "You don't know that. You don't know me. "

An amused chuckle escapes him as he stands taller, towering over me. And I realize that I've not only chosen not to run, but I've put myself on my knees at this psychopath's mercy.

"I know enough," he says.

"Well, I don't know you." I roll my shoulders back, hoping he won't see me crumbling if I put up a strong front. "Why did you do this?"

He stands over me, silent. My shoulders shake outside of my control when he won't stop watching me.

"What do you want?" I tip my chin up. "Who are you?"

"So many questions." He holds up the bloody blade between us.

Drawing his other arm up, he cleans it off with the cuff of his sleeve. The cool silver shines in the moonlight. I wait for him to slash it through my throat next.

"You can call me Saint."

Saint . When there's nothing less holy than him standing over me.

"Your name is Saint?"

He shakes his head slowly, toying with his blade. "Might as well be. I saved you."

"I wasn't in danger," I argue, wishing I'd stop trying to piss him off, so I level my tone. "At least, not until Liam picked you up."

A cloaked chuckle comes from behind his mask, but it isn't amusement. It's dark. Sick. Sadistic.

We face each other, soaked in my boyfriend's blood. The pavement digs into my knees, and a pebble cuts through my skin, but I barely feel it with the adrenaline coursing through me.

"So, what now then?" I rub my hands over my arms, streaking my white sweater red. "Am I next?"

It's probably a bad idea to tempt a killer, but I can't help it. After all, if I had been smart, I would have run the moment Liam fell to the ground, but I didn't.

"Next?" Saint's voice drops an octave as he reaches for my chin, gripping it harder this time.

"Are you going to kill me?" Fear lodges in my throat. "Am I next?"

"Would you like to be?"

I try to shake my head, but his tight grasp limits me. "No."

"Then stand."

For a man of few words, each one lands like a hammer. They knock me in the chest and send goosebumps prickling my flesh.

I climb to my feet, and he doesn't let me go. Instead, he steps over Liam's body to bring us closer, his grip on my chin tightening.

Even on this cool night, the heat of him radiates. Hate and rage and violence all bleeding out. He's taller than I realized when I first saw him walking on the side of the road, and my neck arches painfully as he angles my chin and forces me to look up at him.

"Why would I kill you, Violet?" Saint asks, smearing his thumb up and over my lip.

The coppery scent of blood storms my nostrils, and once more, I'm overwhelmed by that flutter I felt when I spotted him on the side of the road. My stomach spins at his touch, but it isn't fear. It's something rippling through my core, and it's wrong on every level.

"Why wouldn't you? You killed Liam."

"I had my reasons."

"Like what?" He just met us, so I don't know what those reasons could be.

"Violet." He practically growls my name as his grip on my jaw loosens.

Saint's fingers trail down my throat as he starts to slowly walk in a circle around me. He pauses behind me, standing with his chest pressed to my back so I feel every inhale through the expansion of his chest. His fingers tighten around the column of my throat, and he pulls my body to him.

Saint dips his chin, his mask brushing my ear.

"Why would I kill you when I'd rather see that spirit he was trying to temper? Why snuff you out when I'd rather watch you burn ?"

I'm not sure how to interpret his words or the fact that it has my blood running molten hot.

"Do you want that, Violet?" His voice is nearly a whisper, and I hate how it throbs all the way in my core. "After all, I set you free. I gave you the greatest gift."

"By killing my boyfriend?"

"You're welcome."

"I wasn't thanking you."

His fingers clench my throat. "Careful, Violet, I like to tame skittish creatures. And you owe me now."

"I don't even know who you are. "

"That isn't important."

"Why not?"

"So many questions when you aren't ready for the answers." His index finger presses where my pulse meets my throat. "Feel that? Your wild mind races as fast as your heart. Too scared to admit you've been living in a cage. But I'll set you free, starting with him."

Saint grips the back of my hair and forces me to look at the ground. At where Liam's body is bleeding out on the concrete.

"I gave you a gift. Don't you want to thank me for it?"

His fingers lace tighter. He pulls hard, tipping my head back, zipping our bodies together. Forcing me to face him.

"Please don't." A tear trickles down my cheek.

"Now isn't the time for begging." He traces a finger up and down the column of my neck, not letting go of my hair as my scalp starts to sting. "But we'll get to that."

"Then what—" His fingers pull my strands, and I bite back tears. "What is it time for?"

He releases my hair and traces the pads of his fingers over my scalp, my shoulder, my arm. "Now you're asking the right questions."

Saint steps back an inch and then another. Stealing his heat and leaving me with the cool chill of the forest at night.

"What I want..."—he takes another step back, amusement ghosting his tone—"is for you to run ."