Page 5 of Unholy Masks

This room—my room—still had a door. I pushed the key inside, and the lock groaned. The hinges creaked as I pushed the door open, stirring up years of dust that had long settled into forgotten corners.

And there was another red box, sitting atop a chair with broken legs. I grabbed the box as Ryden scanned the room.

Gritting my teeth, I untied the bow and opened the box. The note was written on pale pink paper. I hated it.

I read the note silently as Ryden waited.

Where the Sinner drew his final breath, tethering your fate to the one beside you. Follow the path of your rage, and see if his gaze stays the same. Will it?

One beside me?

Ryden.

I stared at Ryden, my fingers shaking.

The Strangler wanted me to show Ryden the storage unit where I killed Victor—he wanted Ryden to witness my cruelty. He wanted me to break Ryden’s heart.

“What does it say?” Ryden asked, staring at me. I wanted to take him and run away. Instead, I handed the note to him wordlessly.

“Oh,” he said. “Millicent’s storage unit?”

He walked out of the room without another word, and I followed silently. We said our goodbyes to the Sisters before we left.

“Ryden?” I whispered as we stopped next to the car.

“It is fine. We will go there and find another clue.”

He stared at me for a second before gently taking the key from between my fingers.

“I will drive, Red.”

The silence in the car grew heavier with each passing mile. I wanted to say something, anything, to fill the tension, but each time I glanced at Ryden, the words just died.

His grip on the steering wheel was forceful. His face was ashen, his eyes fixed ahead. Lost.

We had talked about Victor, and I thought, with time, we could come out of it stronger, but were we brave enough to witness this now?

A part of me readily said no, but what did I know?

My fingers twisted together in my lap.

Where the Sinner drew his final breath, tethering your fate to the one beside you.

I felt like I was unraveling with each inch closer to Millicent’s storage on Charleston Street.

My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the soft hum of the engine.

This wasn’t The Strangler’s usual MO. This kill wasn’t for me.

No.

This was a calculated game. A twisted letter to the two of us. Ryden was one of the players now. The Strangler knew how much Ryden’s pain would hurt me, and he was using it to punish me.

Why? I wanted to scream.

Ryden didn’t say anything, but his body spoke volumes. The way he glanced at me occasionally, as though seeking answers I couldn’t bring myself to offer, the slight tremor in his hands as he adjusted his grip on the wheel, and the pain in his eyes—he was so close to breaking, and I didn’t know how to stop his shattering.

When we finally reached Millicent’s storage, the silence felt like a chasm that couldn’t be bridged.