"You're so cute," he leaves a soft kiss on my shoulder, "and beautiful," he buries his nose in my hair, planting another kiss against my neck, "and incredibly smart," he smiles against my skin, moving slightly to tilt my head, "and finally mine."
A...
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A R I A
My life can be scary. One moment I'd be playing a simple game of tag until it changes into Manhunt. Except it isn't a game. Take my current situation, for example. Five minutes ago I was running away from Miles, and now I'm running away from a potential killer.
To be honest, I have no idea where I'm running to. All I can think about is the fact that there's this crazy psycho chasing after me, and Miles is no where to be found. There's no way in hell I'm going to just leave this forest without at least knowing he's okay. My stomach drops at the thought of him being hurt.
Not only does my stomach drop, but my entire body does, too. A frustrated cry escapes my lips when a sharp rock slices my palm, but I don't waste a second and jump to my feet with a glance over my shoulder. The pain vanishes for a split second when I realize the masked person is only getting closer, though that's not what scares me most. A small object glints in their hand, and it doesn't take me long to figure out that they're holding a pistol.
Holy crap . . . this is my life now.
When my hand brushes over my thigh, I dig into my pockets and almost grin when I swoop my phone out.
Keyword: almost.
"I'll kill her."
There are no sounds of leaves crunching behind me anymore. There's only that deep voice, coming from the person who has stopped chasing me. It sends shivers down my spine as I stare at the masked man. Or at least I think they're male.
"If you don't drop that device, I'll kill the girl." He says, staying in his place.
Hailey.
"You're . . . you're him, aren't you?" I don't have to elaborate. He already knows what I mean. My voice is shaky, and so are my legs and hands.
"Indeed I am,"
He sounds young; in his early twenties, maybe. His voice is eerily calm and yet, somehow familiar. Is this someone I know? Well, that would be quite the disappointment. My parents' killer, right under my nose this whole time.
I snort, deciding not to dwell on the thought. At least, not right now.
Why'd you do it? Why'd you take them away from me? The question I've been wanting to ask for the past three years is begging for an answer, but I restrain myself. It can be answered when he's behind bars. Instead, I try to make my voice come out as steady as it can get in this particular moment and blurt, "Where is she?"
And Miles. Where's that annoyingly handsome idiot?
"She's right here, Aria."
That one sentence manages to turn my blood cold. What kind of game is he playing at?
