Page 14 of Salem’s Rise

Maybe worse.

I force myself to breathe through the panic tightening my chest. They want me afraid. They want me confused. If I let them see how frightened I am, they control everything.

“Murder seems a bit premature, don’t you think, man?” the one in the zip-up fleece asks, tilting his masked head at his friend, almost patronizingly.

“She’s already digging and becoming a real pain in the ass,” the leather jacket one says, pointing his knife in my direction, as if he’d like to plunge it into me. “She’s been in town barely a week.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” the zip-up one says. “To let her know what happens when people dig in the wrong places.”

The one in the black jacket watches as they argue. Moonlight slides across the smooth silver face of his mask, making it look almost alive. Then he takes a step forward and raises his knife.

“Go home, Jacqueline,” he says, lowering the tip of the blade until it rests against my knee. Through my jeans, I feel the sharp pressure. “You won’t find any answers here.”

“What did you do to him?” I lean forward against the ropes, fury burning through my fear. “Where is my brother? Did you hurt him?”

No one answers.

Something inside me snaps and I kick out, catching the man in the black jacket hard in the shin.

“Careful,” he warns me, pressing the blade more firmly against my leg. “Wouldn’t want me to slip.”

“That’s enough.” The zip-up fleece man speaks again, calm and almost gentle. “She’s frightened. She understands.”

“No,” the bloodthirsty one in the leather jacket says. “She doesn’t—but she will.”

He moves before I can jerk away. The blade flashes, slicing across my upper arm. Pain explodes through me, and I scream, twisting against the ropes.

He cut me.

Holy shit. The motherfucker actually cut me!

My breathing turns ragged as I watch the blood seep down my arm and run toward my elbow. The gash doesn’t look deep, but it burns with a white-hot intensity that makes my vision blur. Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

“Now do you understand?” The man in the leather jacket crouches in front of me. Through the hollow eyes of the mask, I feel him study my reaction.

I force myself to hold his gaze even as my arm throbs with pain. “I understand you’re a fucking lunatic.”

He tilts his head, pressing the knife to my throat this time, cold metal resting just beneath my jaw.

“Say that again, bitch. I… dare… you…”

I swallow hard, feeling the blade shift with the movement. All the anger drains out of me, replaced by pure animal terror.

“Shit, man. That’s enough.” Behind him, the zip-up fleece man takes one quick step forward. “You weren’t supposed to actually cut her.”

“You don’t decide when it’s enough!” the violent one that cut me hisses back.

“No. But I do,” the figure in the black jacket says quietly, almost angrily. “Back… the… fuck… off.”

The man at my throat doesn’t move at first. His gaze flicks to the man in the black jacket, rage burning in his eyes. For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to disobey. Then, with visible reluctance, he eases the knife from my throat and steps back, hands at his sides.

I suck in another shaky breath as the man in the black jacket looms over me. My terrified reflection swims across the polished silver of his mask, stretched and warped until I barely recognize myself.

“You will stop asking about your brother,” he orders in a clipped voice. “You will stop searching for clues. Tomorrow, you will withdraw from Salem’s Fall University, and you will go home,” he says. “And you will never, ever return.”

“And if I don’t?”

He lets out a low, cruel laugh.