Page 61 of Death Rydes Shotgun

A grim smile touches the corners of my lips. “You’re my alibi, pretty girl.”

Harmony points an accusing finger at my chest. “You disappeared while I was in the bathroom. You were gone long enough to kill him.”

I scoff at that, letting out a dry, amused laugh that echoes off the rotting cedar walls. “Kill, yes. Stage his body in which he was displayed…” I pause. “...I’m not even that good.”

Harmony swallows hard, and she tries to move away.

Keeping her close to my side, I chuckle. “You actually think I had time to find Marcus, kill him in the gruesome way he was killed, and make my way back to the tree line, all within the fifteen minutes you were in the bathroom? You sure do give me a lot of credit.”

I lean in slightly, letting a quiet edge of gallows humor color my voice. “Although... I must admit, whoever took out good ol’ Marcus was an artist.”

Harmony’s eyes widen in genuine shock at my words, her breath hitching in her throat.

But beneath the shock, I spot something else buried deep in her traumatized irises—a flick of realization. Perhaps, deep down in her own mind, she had thought the exact same thing when she saw his body.

She swallows hard, looking around the pitch-black, rain-soaked cabin as if the shadows themselves were closing in on us.

“Well…” she stammers, her voice trembling with a new, terrifying layer of dread, “...if you didn’t do it... then who did?”

I pause for a considerable amount of time to look at her before shrugging and letting a wicked, chilling smile form on my face.

I never really thought it was true, but…

The thought is thrilling, and drips with a foreboding menace, but I say it anyway.

“Perhaps, we actually have a serial killer on our hands.”

Nineteen

Hell or Heaven, Both are You

HARMONY

3:20 AM

My mind spins in a chaotic, dizzying loop as I process Ryder’s chilling insinuation.

A serial killer.

The words settle into the damp air of the rotting cabin like a heavy blanket of smog, terrifyingly plausible.

If Ryder doesn’t take credit for the slaughter of Marcus, and if he didn’t make Blaire vanish into the black abyss of the woods, then something far more sinister is lurking in the shadows of Blackwood tonight.

The thought of a nameless monster roaming through the storm isn’t the only thing shaking me to my core.

It’s this sick, twisted, addicting attraction I feel for Ryder.

I scream at my own stupid brain to pull itself together.

How am I letting a dangerously gorgeous, most wicked man distract me from why I actually came back to Blackwood?

I came here with a set plan—a carefully constructed itinerary to face the ghost of my past, visit the highway where Noah died, and finally put the horrors of fifteen years ago to rest.

That schedule has been shot to complete and utter hell, ripped apart the moment I picked up a giant, dark-haired stranger on the side of the road.

I need to regain control. It’s imperative I figure him out before he breaks me down completely.

“What happened to you after high school, Ryder? How did you change so much?” I ask softly, stepping back to give myself some breathing room.