Chapter 3: The Trap is Sprung

I giggled drunkenly as I staggered out of The Velvet Room. Aubrey, the owner’s daughter and a good friend of mine, called after me with concern: "Natalie, be careful on your way home!"

I waved back at her. It was nearly midnight, the sky pitch-black, and the streets were empty. Luckily, I’d walked this road hundreds, if not thousands, of times—I could get home with my eyes closed.

With the alcohol burning in my veins, my courage soared, and I swaggered home alone, completely fearless. Nothing happened along the way.

When I saw my familiar porch, I fished around in my coat for the key, leaned against the door, and was about to unlock it—when the door suddenly swung open and I tumbled inside. I landed flat on my back, seeing stars.

Dizzy, I grabbed the door to pull myself up. When my vision finally cleared—

I found myself staring at a wall of knives, all flashing cold under the hallway light. The men holding them were all dressed in black, each one clearly a pro.

Worse still, behind them, a man in a black coat slowly turned at the noise. The moment I saw his face, my drunkenness vanished.

Caleb looked at me, grinned, and his voice was as cold as death, like a ghost crawling out from the grave. "Long time no see, sis."

My legs turned to jelly. Instinctively, I stepped back—

And a large hand caught me from behind. A chill shot through me. Trembling, I turned to look.

It was my ex-fiancé, Derek, the one I’d once humiliated and who now held a lot of sway in town. The last time he touched me, it was to pull away. Now his grip was iron, and his eyes said he’d never forgiven me.

Standing next to him was the leading lady, Rachel, whose reputation I’d ruined. Rachel was dressed in workout gear, no longer the delicate flower she once was. With a heavy duffel bag slung over her shoulder, she looked tough and ready for anything.

She glared at me, teeth clenched, her voice cold and full of hatred. "You never change, do you? Still the same selfish witch."

Each of them looked at me with eyes so fierce and complicated, it was as if they wanted to take me down right there, rip me to shreds.

I glanced at the foyer mirror and caught my own reflection—hair mussed, eyes wide, red lipstick a smudge. The sight almost made me laugh; I looked like a deer in the headlights, only drunker. If this was a trap, at least it had style. Crap.

I’m toast.