Grazing my hands over my body, I start at my chest, slowly trailing down my abdomen, hips, and thighs. Seductively staring in their direction, not having a single care in the world.
Jason and Michael’s backs are pressed to the wall, arms folded over their chest. Ghost’s posture stiffens, his arms dropping to the sides as his hands ball into tight fists.
Confusion strikes me until I feel a light tap on my shoulder.
Turning around, I take in the sight of a guy dressed in black pants and a white T-shirt smeared with fake blood.
He smiles, dancing his way closer to me. “Loving the costume,” he says over the music.
“Thanks,” I reply, swaying my hips to the beat. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be, though—”
He unexpectedly grabs onto my waist, pulling me close. “You’re hot as hell.”
“Thanks,” I uneasily reply, pulling away.
He tightly grabs my wrist, bringing me back to him, and locks me in place. “Where you going?”
“You’re hurting me,” I stammer.
Ghost appears, stepping between us. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
“Or, what?”
He lifts his knife and spins it between his fingers. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish,” he coldly remarks.
My heart immediately sinks.
“Ghost,” I try to say, but there’s barely any sound to my voice.
Finally, he releases me, only to get right in Ghost’s face. “Let her decide who she wants,” he snaps back. “She’s not your bitch.”
Without warning, Ghost shoves him hard enough to send him flying backward. The moment his back collides with the wall, he lifts his hands above his head in defeat.
But it’s already too late.
Ghost grabs his wrist, pinning his arm to the wall. It takes me a moment to realize what has just happened before I’m able to snap back to reality. There’s a knife stuck through his palm. The blade is buried through his flesh, locking him in place, blood seeping down his arm from the gash.
There’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears. My eyes nearly bulge out of my head in disbelief. And then the ringing fades, and he’s suddenly screaming.
Screaming in agony and fear.
My stomach turns. Adrenaline pumps through me.
Ghost screams back, mocking him. “If you ever put your filthy hands on what’s mine again, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you. Slowly.”
He twists the knife, blood spurting out from around the incision of the blade, and there’s a bloodcurdling scream. Everyone in the room is shrieking, cowering, and staying out of the way as Ghost withdraws the knife from his flesh.
Dropping to his knees, he cradles his injured hand against his chest, hunched over in distress. Now his white T-shirt is stained with real blood.
How festive.
Ghost and Jason lead the way as we head toward the back door, while Michael walks beside me, glancing down at me occasionally to ensure I’m okay. All eyes are on us as we exit the party, taking our time cutting through the backyard and past everyone who’s gathered outside.
Michael pulls out his phone, turning on the flashlight the moment we enter the woods. Ten minutes of walking must pass until we finally reach the main road, and I come to realize we’re right near downtown Salem.
There’s a crowd of people walking in the middle of the street in every direction, all dressed in costumes, and the roads are blocked off with police vehicles, barriers, and orange cones. After taking a turn and walking down a side street, the back heels of my feet are blistered and throbbing.
Slowing my pace, I try to take my mind off the discomfort, although it’s useless. Kneeling, I untie my heels and pull them off, holding onto Michael’s arm to keep myself steady.
“You good?” Jason asks.
Nodding slightly, I hold onto my heels and continue to follow behind them. “I’m fine,” I say, sharp pebbles from the concrete jabbing the soles of my feet. I wince.
“Give me them,” Jason says, taking my heels.
Ghost stands in front of me, blocking my path as I come to a stop. Before I can even make sense of it, he lifts me from the ground and scoops me into his arms as if I weigh nothing.
“You don’t need to carry me,” I rush out, taken back. “I can walk. Really.”
“I want you against me,” he breathes.
“You keep protecting me. Why?”
“I see right through you.”
Frowning, I shake my head. “What does that even mean?”
“It’s all you’ve ever wanted. To be protected. Safe,” he sharply states, cutting across the front lawn of a house. “We will keep you safe, little Quinn.”