Page 42 of The October Trials

The cool night air hits my face like a slap as I stumble toward Ashvale’s side entrance, and I’m grateful for it. Grateful for anything that feels real right now, anything that grounds me back into my body after… that.

Everything that happened still plays in the back of my mind, like a video loop.

My thighs ache. There’s a bruise forming on my hip where his fingers dug in. My hair is a disaster, half-fallen from its ponytail, and I know—I know—I look exactly like what I am.

Someone who just lost her virginity in the woods.

The shame hits me in waves, hot and acidic, crawling up my throat.

It’s a good thing he even cleaned the crime scene of blood off me while I napped, or I’d look much worse right now.

I’m so lost in my own head that I don’t see them until I’m practically on top of them.

“Blair!”

Sloane’s voice stops me in my tracks. She’s standing with Christian, both of them looking exhausted. But alive.

“Oh, my God!” I move toward them without thinking. “You’re okay. You both made it—”

Sloane’s eyes go wide, tracking over my body from head to toe. “Jesus, what happened to you?” she breathes. “Oh… wow.”

The shame intensifies, burning through my chest like acid reflux. I can feel the heat crawling up my neck, staining my cheeks. My hand moves to smooth my hair, but it’s useless. The evidence is written all over me.

“I—” My voice comes out rough. Probably from screaming. “Nothing. I just—”

“Blair.” Sloane steps closer, her eyebrows dipping low. “Are you hurt? Did someone—”

Yes. No. I don’t know.

Christian tilts his head, frowning. “You look like you got dragged through hell.”

Before I can answer, a shape peels out of the treeline behind Christian. Sloane’s eyes widen again, her mouth opening in a gasp that doesn’t quite make it out.

Shit. A guard.

In his hand, a chainsaw. The blade isn’t running, but it doesn’t need to be. The threat is clear in the way he holds it, in the way he moves with slow, predatory purpose toward Christian’s unprotected back.

“Chris—” I whisper.

Sloane lunges toward them.

Oh, my God. “Sloane, no—” I’m already moving, already reaching for her.

She moves faster. Her hands come up, connecting with my shoulders. And she pushes me.

“What the fuck!” I gasp, stumbling forward, my feet tangling as my body careens straight toward the guard. She pushed me.

She pushed me!

Even as I watch her grab Christian’s arm and run, pulling him toward the side door of the manor, I can’t believe it. Even as I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, I still can’t believe it.

A shadow falls over me, and I look up, breathing erratically. I fucking made it this far for my best friend to sacrifice me?!

The guard stands above, looming, chainsaw hanging loose in one hand. “Well, well. Look what little bunny fell right into my lap.”

That voice. It’s the guy who punched me when I first got here. He’s the only one I’ve noticed using a voice changer tonight.

Get up. Move. Run. He’s dangerous.