【 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 】 Nicholas chavez

3.0

"I'll give you one last chance," he said, his voice dropping to a chilling tone. "Get this right, and maybe I'll let you live."

My breath caught. I felt the cold sweat building on my palms. "What... what's the question?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

His laugh was low, predatory. "In your perfect little life, you forgot about someone important, didn't you?"

My mind raced, confusion mixing with fear. What was he talking about?

"How did Kendall really die?" he asked, his voice growing more sinister. "And who do you think really did it? Was it an accident? Or did Jordan and Luke make sure it wasn't?"

My heart dropped. "What? What are you talking about?" I stammered, panic creeping into my voice. "How do you know Jordan and Luke?"

"Wrong answer," he hissed through the phone, his tone suddenly lethal.

A cold rush of fear shot me through , and before I could react, a shadow moved behind me. The phone slipped from my hand as I spun around, but it was too late—he was there, standing inches away, masked, his knife gleaming in the dim light.

He lunged at me.

I stumbled back, barely dodging the knife as it slashed through the air, grazing my arm. My heartbeat was deafening in my ears. I ran toward the living room, my feet slipping against the floor as I tried to escape. But he was fast—too fast—and before I could reach the door, he was in front of me again, cornering me with a menacing smile beneath his mask.

"Come on, sweetheart," he purred, voice sickeningly flirtatious. "This could've been fun. You didn't have to make it so hard."

My back hit the wall, and before I could scream, he was on me. His body pressed mines against the wall, pinning me down as he raised the knife again. I gasped, feeling his breath on my neck as he leaned in close, his words low and teasing.

"I've been waiting for this," he whispered. "You make running look good."

His body hovered over mine, almost too close, his knife teasing the edge of my skin, grazing my stomach as he pressed it lightly against my shirt. I pushed against him, trying to break free, but the harder I pushed, the closer he leaned in.

My breath hitched as the blade slid upward, and with one swift movement, he sliced through my shirt, leaving me in just my bra. I gasped, a mix of terror and shock as he smirked behind the mask, the cold metal tip of the knife barely touching my skin.

"Looks like you lost," he taunted, his voice dark but laced with a disturbing playfulness. "Shame, I was really starting to like this."

My adrenaline kicked in. I kicked him hard, my feet colliding with his chest, sending him stumbling back. I took the chance to run, bolting across the room, my bare feet sliding across the floor as I searched for a weapon, for anything.

But he was gone.

I spun around, my chest heaving, eyes scanning every corner of the room. "Where did you go?" I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. I moved slowly, cautiously, every creak of the floor making me flinch. The house felt impossibly quiet now, the silence thick with dread.

My shirt hung loosely around me, torn, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. I gripped the edges, trying to pull the fabric over myself as I moved toward the hallway, hoping I could make it out.

Suddenly, a noise—a faint shuffle behind me. I spun around, only to find nothing.

My hands shook as I grabbed my phone, my thumb hovering over Jordan's name before pressing the call button. The ringing seemed to drag on forever before he finally answered.