Prologue
Disguised in the mascot costume of Saint Northwest Academy, Victoria Sinclair roams the campus under the alias “Red Devil,” selling illicit substances. Luck—or perhaps fate—leads her to befriend the heirs of the academy’s founding family, a twist that proves both a blessing and a nightmare. Especially when it comes to Damon Northwest, who seems hell-bent on making her life miserable.
“The two men had finally stopped running. Dressed entirely in black, their faces were hidden behind terrifying, unsettling masks. One of them held a machete—long, wide, and razor sharp. The silver blade gleamed under the beams of their flashlights, slicing through the darkness with an ominous glint.
Darcy and Britney were paralyzed with fear. So was I. Then Britney did the only logical thing—she screamed. Loud. And then bolted. Darcy and I instinctively prepared to do the same.
But the lunatic standing beside us? He didn’t move. Damon Northwest, arms casually crossed over his chest, simply watched as our masked pursuers advanced toward us. It didn’t make sense. None of this did. His eerie calm sent ice through my veins.
Did he have something to do with this?
“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” The man with the baseball bat stepped forward, voice thick with amusement.
“Four little treats. Now, which one should we start with?”
Horrified, I reacted before I could think.
“With him!” I spat, shoving Damon straight toward them before turning on my heel to run.
But as I glanced back, what I saw froze me in place. Something I would never be able to erase from my memory. Something that would haunt me. And something that would fuel my thirst for vengeance until the day I died. If I made it out of this alive, I wouldn’t rest until I saw Damon Northwest bleed.
One of the masked men reached behind his back and pulled out a Ghostface mask, throwing it out toward Damon.
Damon took it. And smiled. Then he put it on.
I stood there, breath caught in my throat, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. The small blade snapped open with a metallic click. It wasn’t nearly as deadly as the weapons the others held, but in Damon’s hands? He could do unspeakable things with just that.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“You are so dead, Damon!” Darcy screamed behind me. “You think you can kill me? Kill us? Mom and Dad will find out exactly who did it, you psycho!”
Dread crawled up my spine like cold fingers. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a sick joke.
But as much as I wanted to believe that, I couldn’t ignore the suffocating weight of terror pressing down on my chest. This wasn’t a game. This was real.
And my life was very much in danger.
Damon tilted his head slightly, voice muffled under the mask.
“I’ll count to three,” he said. “Let’s see how far you get before I catch you.”
His fingers tightened around the knife.
“1…”
A shiver tore through me.
“2…”
Run.
“3.”
