Insatiable (The Edge of Darkness, #1)(6)

I thought I was safe. I thought I was free.

Until I wasn’t.

But the past is the past. It’s nothing a bit of music can’t temporarily fix.

“Spiracle” by Flower Face echoes around the studio I’ve been dancing in since I was a teen. Whenever this song plays, I think of him.

I remember the way I felt sitting on the sofa across from Lu. Nervous. On fire. Wishing I was brave enough to touch him. His hand was so close to my own, and I dared myself to take it, to feel his palm in mine, to know how soft it was, but I was terrified of his refusal.

He hated being touched – it would make him flinch and look as if he was in pain. Then his pinkie grazed mine under the blanket that we shared, eyes on the TV, and I fought a smile.

It was from then that it really started. It wasn’t a dare – it was real.

The studio is empty, like it always is after classes end. The colourful LED lights are dimmed, but sometimes, I turn them off completely. It’s relaxing, just closing my mind off from this world and being in my own – my axis shifts, and everything stops while I dance .

But in a few hours, Chris will pick me up, and it will all come crashing down – and I’ll remember my true reality.

The music cuts out, and I stop, gripping the hoop while I stay suspended upside down, one leg hooked over to keep me stable. I narrow my eyes at the screen of my phone – the text that’s popped up has interrupted my song and disconnected the Bluetooth.

I flip down onto the crash mat, tightening the bobble in my hair as I walk to the other side of the room, my bare feet slapping over the flooring. Leaning against the fully mirrored wall, I open the messages in our group chat.

Lu: My mum and Ewan just left. I think Kade and his friends are going out, so we’ll have the entire manor to ourselves for the party.

Ty: I’m still at my aunt’s house. But I’ll see you soon!

Her mum and stepdad Ewan are going to America for a few weeks, something about a meeting with her biological father’s therapist to possibly get him accepted time in public. But so far all his appeals have been declined.

I mean, I can’t see him ever being allowed time away from the institution. He’s terrifying. I spoke to him on the phone once while Lu hurried out of the bathroom, and his voice alone sent shivers through my body. He knew my name and warned me not to hurt his son like I was the monster.

His voice was so deep and dangerous, I think I’d honestly pass out if I ever met him. As much as his son resembles him, I’d run in the opposite direction of Tobias Mitchell.

He’s a diagnosed psychopath. A killer.

After replying to say I can’t wait, I quickly send Chris a text telling him not to bother picking me up. I have the dress with me I’m wearing tonight, and I can grab a shower at Lu’s too.

My stepbrother will definitely be pissed, but he’s always mad at me.

A few days ago, after Kade dropped me off, I begged him to release me and lied that it was Luciella who drove me home.

I have concealer hiding the faint bruises he left on me.

I connect my Bluetooth back up to the speakers that surround the hall, restart the song and take in my sweaty appearance in the mirror.

When my gaze drops to my chest, I stare the small scar on my sternum, purple and deep. As much as my breasts hide it, it’s there. That was why Chris ripped a key against my skin – to deter others from touching what he thinks is his.

He made me lie to Nora and say I did it to myself, and she believed me. She’d wanted me to seek help from a therapist, thinking I was harming myself.

No. Your son is just a fucking monster, Nora.

I run my fingers up the titanium poles. There are seven of them spaced out throughout the hall, a hoop in the middle hanging from the ceiling and deep-pink silks at the back. In the next room, there’s a huge dance area where the kids go.

Tylar’s family owns the building, and she’s had plans to expand into somewhere bigger for the last year but has been caught up in her studies while her parents work on a project in Rome.

I wrap the silk around my wrist, getting a good grip of the material, then do the same with my foot and pull myself onto it. Flipping myself upside down, the material twists around my thighs, holding my weight safely as I quickly fix my hair.

Then I let the music take me on a lyrical adventure, using my flexibility and rhythm to map out the perfect choreography I could use at the Festival of Fright Night at Halloween.

By the time the song finishes, sweat is layering my skin, and my limbs ache from the constant pulling and tugging on the silks. I flip myself upside down once again, settling in a full straddle, and pull off my top to reveal my sports bra.

But when the material at the hook tangles and I start to spin slowly, my entire body freezes – there’s someone watching me.

“Chris!” I snap. “You aren’t allowed in here!”

My stepbrother shrugs as I untangle myself and drop to the floor.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

He smirks, making me step backwards as he takes one step forward, eyes dropping to my chest. “You know I like to watch you.”

Uncomfortable shivers rush through me, bile rising in my throat. “I told you I’m going to my friend’s house.”

“I’ll drive you. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“I don’t need you to drive me.”