When a predator targets a lonely young girl, eight strangers can either fight to stop him, or face the wrath of the spirit that tied their fates together.
Is life a series of random events, or are we all connected by invisible threads of fate? Well...
[Each chapter of Octagon corresponds to a song that inspired the shape of the character and/or story arc. You can listen to each chapter's "song" to gain further insight into the world-building of Gossamer Loom and the people who live there. I definitely had fun listening to these songs while I was writing the novel. Chapter 2's "Formation Song" is "Changes" by David Bowie.]
13-year-old Josiah Loomridge's phone buzzed, a small pulse in his hand that reminded him how badly he wanted his life to change. Emily.Again. He knew before checking the screen.
"Pick me up. 8 PM. Don't be late."
He hated her texts, the way they felt like commands. Not even a question... just an expectation.
Emily simply knew he'd keep showing up, like he was her fucking toy.
After all, that was his job. To be her puppet.
He knew better, but he still picked up his pace to get out the door all the quicker for Emily. After all, her Highness didn't tolerate excuses and he didn't have the energy for an argument.
Wandering the halls of his family's large estate, Josiah felt a bit like an animal trapped in a cage. Loomridge Haven was a quiet, ancient mansion with a vast and complicated history. That was Josiah's favorite part about living there—the history. But tonight, he found no comfort in these old halls.
Sure, the place was quiet... but it was far from peaceful.
His parents had finally stopped pushing him toward Emily every second of every day, satisfied now that their son was dating the girl "the other parents liked." They loved that she was well-known, clean-cut, and from a good family. They didn't, however, seem to give a shit about the way she turned on people, or the cruelty beneath her glossy smile. Or maybe they just weren't very observant...
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Emily was waiting for him outside the gates of Loomridge Haven.
"Finally," she muttered, not even looking at him, her attention already glued to her phone. "You know the party already started, right?"
"Yeah, I know." Josiah's voice came out flat, tired.
Emily didn't seem to care if Josiah was tired. She was already texting someone, her thumbs moving furiously over the screen, probably bragging about how she was going to make her grand entranceat the party fashionably late. The party was sure to be another night of posing, pretending, and watching Emily torment anyone she deemed beneath her—which was almost everyone.
Leslie wasn't like that, though.
Josiah liked the new girl. She didn't belong at these parties, never tried to fit in, never seemed to care. He still didn't understand why Emily hated her as much as she did. It was a lot, and it was confounding.
