Zane's POV
Oh yeah, I found out about him but I guess I'll never live to tell the story. How pathetic is that?
These stupid legs of mine. I should've just stayed in my room and never stepped out to get fresh air. What was I even thinking?
"Hi, Zane," the black haired man called out, his voice light and pleasant, but the sound sent a jolt of pure terror down my spine.
My heart skipped a beat.
He knows my name.
The man was smiling. That alone wouldn't have been terrifying if it weren't for the fresh corpse lying just behind him and the bloodied knife still clutched in his gloved hand. I stared at the body, then at him, then back again. My stomach churned violently. I'd been fighting the urge to throw up, but it was getting worse with each passing second.
Why the hell can't I move?
Run, you idiot! But my legs were frozen in place, as if they'd turned to stone.
Fuck this.
"Don't be scared, Zane," the man said calmly. "I'm Knox. I'm glad to finally meet you… alone."
