by Mason, V. F.
“And if I don’t listen to the threat?” I finally find my voice, and he chuckles, leaning back and taking his warmth and fury with him as he goes to the door, not bothering to even glance over his shoulder.
“Then be ready for the consequences. But a word of advice?” He pauses in the doorway, allowing the harsh wind to slip inside, lifting my skirt up over my dancing tights. “I always get what I want. So think about the things you can lose before going against me.” With this final verbal punch, the door shuts after him and sadly doesn’t hit him in the freaking ass.
Since I know the huge window opens up on the driveway where he can see my every movement, I go back to the stereo and allow the music to fill the space still coated in his energy and resume my dancing while the hair on the back of my neck stands the entire time.
Because I know he is watching.
He can watch all he wants, but this time around everything is different.
This time around, I’m not a victim. I’m a hunter.
And I will win no matter the cost.
Even if I have to eliminate him.
Madman
Cassandra Scott is exquisite in her beauty.
From her dark locks to her graceful spine as she arches to the sound of the music, swaying in the studio, to her soft porcelain skin that has a mesmerizing glow to it.
Her dancing attire, from the little black skirt to her leggings with high knee socks, give a full view of her lean yet curvy body that highlights her breasts and tight ass that my hands are itching to squeeze.
Each of her movements are graceful, correct, in time with the music where she almost becomes one with it, creating an eternal feeling between the artist and the art, but the real magic happens when the two mix together in a duet.
She twists her hand up and down, each move carefully planned while she jumps to the side, and flashbacks snap in my head, reminding me of another girl who used to perform as beautifully.
Only her ground was ice that seemed to love her as much as she did it, because she never fell on it, no. She was so steady on it that one might have wondered if she didn’t possess special powers.
The pride of this fucked-up town.
Arianna Griffin.
Ice queen beauty that belonged on the stage of the championships but instead became the queen of ashes.
After all, fire melts ice, because it has no mercy for those it comes in contact with.
Squeezing the handlebars of my bike harshly, I breathe through the desire slowly rising inside me, sending the signal straight to my dick and the beast that demands I barge back into the studio and take her right there.
But oh no.
No matter how gorgeous Cassandra is, I want to drag her to my dungeon and dump her in water where she would stay until the dark hair color washes off, leaving her true red locks on display.
Where the stupid brown contacts would slip from her eyes, showing me the true rare violet ones that always sparkled with mischief and happiness.
Then I can lace my hand in her hair and claim her as mine, once and for all.
She can act all clueless and friendly, but I know her insides scream at her to run away from me.
She might be the hunter now, but she was my prey first. And prey know when their end is near, when the hunter is so close he has the ability to snap their neck, and only then do they start to run with all their might, embarking on the chase of their life.
However, everything in life is inevitable, especially the rules of the jungle.
The hunter will jump on the prey, tearing her flesh apart bit by bit until nothing is left of it.
She can call herself Cassandra Scott or Arianna Griffin; I don’t give a fuck.
With either of the names, this woman has always been mine—mine and no one else’s.
Every part of her belongs to me.
And I’ll be fucking damned if I allow her fucking priest to take her from me this time around.
Madman’s bride, I can just imagine her face once she learns about my true identity and how everything she ever believed in is a lie.
Her vengeance and my obsession are like two swords in our hands, where they clank against each other from the first strike with the steel glistening in the moonlight, everyone waiting to see who will win.
And somewhere between us, there is Eachann, who could never take a weapon to kill a person, yet he is the reason we are in this war to begin with.
A priest who was too weak to stop the destruction that touched us all.
Chapter Seven
“Revenge never brings joy; it only takes it away from our life. If someone hurts you, let go and never look back. God will punish them for their deeds.”
Pastor Joseph said it once during his visit to school when we were discussing one of the poems.
The hero sought justice for the wrongs done to him but in the end lost, because during his quest for revenge, his beloved woman got killed.
Pastor Joseph was wrong though.
Revenge brings joy when everyone you loved died because of the greed of selfish people.
Sinners like me simply have nothing to lose.
From the memories of Arianna Griffin…
Resting my head on the car seat, I roll down the window and lift my face to the wind slapping my cheeks, hoping for the breeze to cool my heated-from-embarrassment face.
Ever since we left school twenty minutes ago, our phones have beeped all the freaking time with different pictures of me and the twins with so many hashtags I can’t even examine them.
Especially the one that said love triangle in the making.
The last thing I imagined happening to me during my senior year was the stupid assumption I was trying to be with two brothers.
Laughable really, since I can’t even get the attention of one while the other bothers with me only when he wants to hurt me.
“It’ll die down by tomorrow.” Pat tries to reassure me, placing her hand on my thigh and squeezing it a little. “Everyone only cares about homecoming anyway,” she says excitedly, and I bite my tongue so I won’t snort at that.
No one cares about it, but Pat, for some reason, is obsessed with it. Does she have some kind of plans that I’m not aware of?
“Let’s hope,” I mumble, rearranging my head on the window while the scenery of green fields and the ocean flash past it.
As much as I hate how this town operates, the nature around here is worth the suffering.
It’s located on the edge of the island, near the neighbor town that survives mostly on fishing and tourism. Life there is peaceful.
In our town though? Not so much. Besides the fact that we have several factories and companies, our nature is very different due to the politics of the founding five surrounding it.
We have endless fields filled with oak trees with large leaves, roses, lavender, orchids, you name it. Emerald green grass is everywhere while the ocean is just an hour away with a beach that has the warmest sand where you can curl your toes while basking in the sunlight.
And then we have forests where it’s so easy to get lost among the tress, and the best hills to have a campfire when your parents take you camping and tell scary stories, where you can’t help but wrap up tightly in your sleeping bag.
Yes, I love my town and I hope to make it proud with a gold medal one day. Even if the founding five will use it as their achievement and flaunt it around.
Patricia takes a hard turn, swinging the car around a left-hand bend, and I almost bump into her. “Careful,” I tell her, adjusting myself, and she chuckles.
“I couldn’t resist. This baby deserves reckless driving,” she says, gliding her palms up and down the steering wheel. “Daddy outdid himself.”
Yeah, he bought her a red sports car that was noticed wherever she went. “Anyway, Cole has a birthday party today.”
I blink at the information, because how does she know? “Yeah, he does,” I reply, waiting for her to continue her train of thought, but she stays silent
, just glances at the rearview mirror and takes another hard turn, but this time I’m ready.
I hold on to the handle, firmly pressing myself to the car door. “And I heard he invited you.”
“Yep, he did.” Then it dawns on me what’s going on, and I wave my hand in a dismissive gesture. “He thinks we’re friends, so if you want to grill me about it, I’m really not in the—”
“I think we should go,” she interrupts me quickly, and again I blink in surprise at this. So I say the only thing that comes to my mind.
“We? He invited you too?” Based on what did he decide they are friends? I wish I’d been there to see that conversation.
She shrugs, speeding up a little so now my hair blows in different directions while she keeps her focus on the road. I have no way of knowing what’s inside that head of hers. “No, but it’s common knowledge if you throw a party, people can bring someone with them.”
“You kicked Dorothy out of your party last year, because she brought a cousin.”
She rolls her eyes, passing by the border of the town as she drives in the direction of the ice-skating rink that’s located several miles from here.
Instantly the endless fields are gone and we have only road ahead of us with forest surrounding us.
We all call this area no-man’s-land, because it doesn’t belong to us nor the smaller town, making it a fair game for anyone who sees fit.
Driving here always makes me uneasy; that’s why I prefer to travel with someone by my side. Just the idea of being here alone where no laws apply makes me crazy worried, although Pat laughs at my fears.
That’s why on most days she volunteers to drive me here when my parents can’t. She says it adds to her adrenaline edge, whatever that means.
“Dorothy’s cousin had a crush on me a long time ago. I couldn’t handle him around with those puppy dog eyes. He was so pathetic.”
Moments like this make me wonder why I’ve stayed friends with Pat in the first place.
But then she has moments where she wraps her arms around me while I cry about my ice-skating dream being gone when I injured my knee. She was there when some girl destroyed my dollhouse in kindergarten and managed to bring me a new one. And she is always there whenever anyone wants to start shit, protecting me with her surname.
So while she is not perfect, she can be a true friend; one just has to see through the endless layers of selfishness.
“I already told you I’m busy.” I decide to return to the conversation at hand, because hashing out the past brings us nowhere. “And besides, why do you want to go? You called him a weirdo just hours ago.”
“I asked why you are friends with that weirdo. I never said a bad thing about him.” She quickly glances in my direction, and my brows furrow.
I’m trying to wrack my mind for all the times we spoke about Cole but can’t pinpoint a moment where she insulted him. Called him a weirdo yes, but flat out saying shit like she likes to do about Dorothy or other people?
Never.
“It still doesn’t answer my question though. Why do you wanna go?” She can bullshit all she wants, but I know Pat. She never does anything without a hidden agenda, especially grace a party with her presence unless it serves a purpose to her popularity.
She stops at a red right, checking her lipstick in the mirror, and finally looks at me, tapping on the steering wheel with her finger. “Ralph will be there.”
The captain of football team?
My mouth drops open and Pat gently closes it with her finger, lifting my chin up. “They’ve been friends since forever, one of the reasons no one picks on Cole. Sort of like me and you.” The light changes to green and the tires screech when she accelerates, flying along the road like our asses are on fire. “I’ve been trying to get him to attend one of my parties, but he always refuses. Just like the Campbell twins.” Annoyance and anger lace her words, probably because she always invites them but they never show up.
A lot of people mock her behind her back for that, claiming the elite boys want nothing to do with her.
Needless to say, Patricia hates them, especially in the light of her crush on Ralph Brown.
They both belong to the founding five families, and I think she plans to create a dynasty between two families.
If only Ralph was willing.
“Look, I don’t think we should go to the party just to see Ralph. We don’t know anyone there,” I tell her, but even to my ears the excuse is weak.
We might not be friends with them all, but it’s impossible not to know everyone. We have the kind of town where one person sneezes and within hours everyone knows you have a cold.
Or assumes you have a cold.
“Homecoming is in two weeks and Ralph still hasn’t invited me yet.”
I groan inwardly at this. I should have known she’d expect him to do that. Mister and Miss Popular.
“But Frank Whitley did. He even sent you a hundred roses.” The only difference between Frank and Ralph is the status as captain and leader of their gang. Frank also belongs to the founding five, and unlike his captain, he showed interest in Pat through the years and bothered to show up for the parties.
Unfortunately for him, she had no plans of forming a dynasty with Whitley.
“I want Ralph,” she snarls and then turns on the music, an indication she is in no mood to talk.
Exhaling heavily, I shift my attention back to the scenery, contemplating her words, and decide to look at it from a different perspective. I always thought her ego hurt from Ralph’s indifference toward her and that’s why she wanted to get him.
However, what if I was wrong?
Maybe she has had a huge crush on Ralph all these years, just like I do with Eachann, and just tries to create an opportunity for them?
The minute the thoughts of the green-eyed boy enter my mind, his question comes back to echo in my ears while the desire to find out more about him rules me.
Cole also said he’d be there, as if knowing about my crush, not that I care. According to everyone, I already have a love affair with the Campbell twins, so whatever.
What if the universe is giving Patricia and me a chance to finally have our dreams come true? I once heard that the universe knows what it’s doing, but I have to create opportunities for it.
Cole’s party is a good enough opportunity for that without the entire school inspecting our every move like bugs under a microscope.
“Let’s do it.” I break the silence and Pam grins widely, blowing me a kiss but keeps the music on because it’s our favorite song.
The tight knot in my chest from earlier leaves me, and instead hope and excitement fill it, lighting up my body at the prospect of fixing everything tonight.
Looking back at it now, I can see how naïve I’d been.
Instead of playing different scenarios in my head of how the meeting with Eachann would have gone, I should’ve paid better attention to everything else.
How Ethan asked me to homecoming, yet his eyes stayed absolutely cold.
How Cole invited me to the party, nervously jerking his ear the entire time he spoke to me.
How the Campbell twins created a scene with me.
Most importantly though, I should have seen a sinister smile on my best friend’s face when I agreed to go to the party and how she was barely holding back a laugh, and her eyes glistened in excitement.
But I didn’t, and in this, I led myself to my downfall.
Cassandra
Removing my sunglasses, I pause in front of the church door while my eyes scan the massive building from every direction.
The Gothic-style church has three arcs, each with two pointed spires while the third above them has a cross on it.
The endless stained-glass windows display different scenes from the Bible, while the rusted red color of it mixes with the gray. The combination creates uneasiness in a person, as the building is massive, and it feels like it presses in on you with its power.
The grass s
urrounding it is bright green with rose bushes scattered around the place and benches lining different narrow paths leading behind it to the cemetery where everyone who has ever lived here is buried.
The church was built during the Civil War. People wanted to create a sanctuary for those who sought protection in their faith, and the church was considered a peaceful place.
It has various secret chambers inside it, and basements linked to tunnels leading to the other end of the town that provided a way for those who wanted to run away from the war.
I hear the shuffling of feet on the floor and the booming voice coming from the inside, because the mass started ten minutes ago, but I don’t go in.
All in good time.
Smoothing my white pencil dress that lifts my breasts and ass along with emphasizing my long legs, I count mentally to fifteen while waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance.
Carefully laid plans require preparations, and nothing in the process can be rushed. Even the slightest of details going wrong might ruin the house of cards that I’m building.
A little girl bounces up next to me, her pink sandals sending rocks flying around her feet, and she gives me a toothless smile, her ponytails wiggling. “Did you come for the Sunday mass?”
I nod, smiling back at her, and she cocks her head to the side. “I don’t know you.”
“I’m new in town.”
Her mouth forms an O and she claps her hands, excitement brightening her face. “The dancing lady.” Oh my, it took one time of me dancing in the studio for the news to spread around.
Ah, the advantages of a small town. You don’t even need social media.
And this cute little person is exactly who I’ve been waiting for.
“Mira!” barks a voice from behind her, rushing toward her and huffing in annoyance. “I told you not to run away from me.”
She bats her eyelashes at him and pouts her lips, so the man sighs, ruffling her hair. “You little sneaky vixen. Your mom is gonna kill me if anything happens to you.” Then he shifts his focus to me, and I’m gazing into the eyes of the boy who used to confuse me a lot.