Page 99 of Pink Ink

The twisted feelings intensify when my wide-eyed stare lands on the peony painting by the front entrance. Awelcomingdoor. Maddox did this for me. He knew I’d see all this, and he wants me to know that he sees me too.

He saw the peony tattoos on my shoulder and shin.

Pink flowers paired with black ink. Pink ink.

My favorite snacks appearing on murder scenes. The almonds. Synthetic rope. The penny.

Maddox knows I’ve been idolizing a serial killer for my film project—knows that I’ve been idolizinghim. I’ve beautified his art, put it on a screen for his critique, and consumption. I’ve turned murder into our dirty little secret. We visited his crime scene together.

OhGod.

I fucked a serial killer.

I bark out a deranged laugh. I fucked a serial killer several times, and Iloved it.

It’s been a little over a week since I first slept with Maddox, and we’ve both kept our distance as if we’ve already been caught, and we’re pretending to be strangers to lessen the damage. But he’s spent that week planning to kill someone for me. Maddox being my professor is the very least of my problems.

Laughter tumbles out of my chest. I can’t believe it. Maddox Shaw is a serial killer. Paranoia has me hearing sounds in the house that aren’t there, but I can’t stop laughing.

All the signs were there; the way he spoke about the murders, the method of execution, and how he promised to pass on a message to the killer. Maddoxwarnedme to stop going to the crime scenes. He promised to go to them with me, and he did. I thought it was because he cared about my safety, but maybe it was fear of getting caught and a dash of curiosity.

How could I be so blind? This whole project is about uncovering hidden messages, and I didn’t see the big fucking neon sign.

I don’t know what to do with any of this information. I upended my entire life in pursuit of my father’s memory and ended up falling for a serial killer who left breadcrumbs for me to follow. What’s his plan? To make me play his games? See how I’d react? We could have spent the rest of our lives with me being none the wiser, and yet he lefthintsfor me to find.

A startled scream rips from my throat when I’m yanked to the side. Pain ruptures along my jaw and cheek when my face hits the banister, turning everything upside down, muting the voice in my head that’s yelling at me to escape.

White orbs float into my swimming vision as I scramble to my feet, attempting to orient myself. My equilibrium tilts from the grip on my hair. My stomach lurches with the threat of emptying its contents onto the floor.

The fuzzy outline of a man appears in my vision, and another ragged cry tears out of me when my back collides with a wall.

Maddox knows that I know, and he’s come back to… kill me? That makes no sense.

My vision clears to find a man I don’t recognize. Fingers wrap around my throat, cutting off the oxygen and my scream with it.

Panic shoots through me, wild and hot, ready to explode. My legs dangle in the air as I kick and thrash, desperate to find my footing. My nails catch on the seams of his denim jacket and scrape the stubble along his jaw as I claw at his head. The harder I fight, the tighter his hold gets, until I can barely hear him above the ringing in my ears.

“Where’s our money?” He spits out the words, shaking me by his rough hold. “Did you think Paddy’s death would wipe what he owes us?”

Paddy?

Darkness blankets my vision as I gasp for breath. The fight in me dwindles with every heartbeat. The knife and stun gun I brought are too far away.

“Where’d he put our fucking money?” he yells, loosening his hold enough for me to sputter.

“Wrong person.”

I manage to pry two of his fingers off my neck. It slackens his gripjustenough for my toes to touch the floor, and before he can utter another word, my knee is smashing into his groin.

My body hits the hardwood next. Coughs rampage through my chest from the rush of oxygen while the man howls in pain beside me. Another figure comes into view, and every cell in me kicks into hyperdrive. It was sheer luck that I managed to get out of that guy’s grip. I’m screwed if there are two.

In a reckless split second, I dive for the stun gun in the stairwell before stumbling to my feet and bolting for the front door. The room spins, my head pounds, and then it hits.

More so, itsoundslike someone being hit.

I twist around with the stun gun raised, one hand on the handle, and my weight against the door to keep upright. For the second time, I can’t move. Can’t breathe. All I can do is stare as Maddox brings his fists down on my attacker.

Over.