Page 39 of Lost to the Woods

None of it was.

Suddenly, I hear it. That dragging noise again. Like nails against the chalkboard, except it’s on very low volume.

I tell myself it’s just a branch scraping the siding. Just the wind. Just nerves. But when it shifts right beneath the bedroom window, I can’t ignore it anymore.

I look over at Kendra. She looks so peaceful that I have no heart to wake her. I’m too big of a chicken to go check behind the blinds, either. Because it feels like it wants me to. Like it knows we’re not supposed to be here.

Sighing, I shift onto my side, my back facing the window.

A whisper pierces through the night. Behind me, right outside. Low. Crooning. Like someone chanting over and over, but the sound is too warped to make out precisely.

My throat closes up.

I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s nothing. Just my imagination.

Bunny.

My breath catches. The sound is soft, almost polite. But it’s wrong. A crawling, sinking feeling spreads through my stomach.

It knows my name.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I pull the covers aside, grab my phone, and decide to go sit in the hallway, far away from any windows.

It’s dark as a demon’s asshole in the hallway so I don’t expect to bump into anyone. But one of the bedroom doors is cracked open, and as my eyes get used to the lack of light, I make out an outline of the person in the distance.

Tall. Broad shoulders. I’d recognize him anywhere.

Ghost is standing near the stairs, back toward me at first, his head tilted like he’s listening for something. I barely register the fact that he’s not wearing his mask before he turns.

“What are you doing, little bunny?”

I almost forget about everything as he approaches, and his facial features become clearer.

And oh.Oh.

11. Bunny

Ican see him.

Well, hardly.

But even in the low light, he’s unfairly stunning. Strong, sharp jaw and high cheekbones that any model would kill for. His dark hair is slightly messy, like he just ran a hand through it, but unruly locks still fall over his forehead. And his hunter eyes, so dark I can’t quite tell where his pupil ends and iris begins, framed by full, slightly arched brows. He’s beautiful and intense in a way that makes my breath catch.

Also, he’s shirtless.

Which is… distracting.

Because he’s ripped. Muscular but lean, big arms, abs carved, with ink covering most of his skin. He’s only wearing gray sweatpants, hanging dangerously low on his hips.

I blink. My brain ceases to function. “Umm… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hm. Enjoying the view at least?” His voice is just as deep as ever, but there’s a smirk playing on his lips now.

I snap out of it. Barely. “I—” I fold my arms, trying to look unimpressed despite the betrayal of my heartbeat. “I thought you slept with your mask on.”

He chuckles low. “Only in front of the camera.”

I swallow hard. I don’t trust myself to look at his stomach again, so I focus on his face—which, ironically, isn’t much safer.

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