Masks & Murder by Isadora Brown & H. C. Cardona

Author:Isadora Brown & H. C. Cardona [Brown, Isadora & Cardona, H. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Star Publishing, LLC
Published: 2025-08-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Fourteen

Iwoke to a pale wash of light creeping through my window, soft and grey like the world hadn’t fully decided to wake up yet. The sky outside hung low and overcast, and I felt just as unsettled. Sleep had been a joke—just hours of restless tossing and flashes of memory that didn’t quite fade.

Stretching, I let out a long yawn that echoed in the still dorm room. Outside, Halloween decorations danced in the morning wind—ghosts strung between tree limbs flailed like they were trying to warn me. Jack-o’-lanterns perched on stoops, their toothy grins warped by flickering LED candles inside. Somehow they looked smug, like they knew something I didn’t.

I dressed quietly, pulling on black leggings and a tank top that clung to my ribs like second skin. My hair was an unruly mess, a reminder of the sleep I didn’t get and the energy I couldn’t summon. I yanked a hoodie over my head and paused at the mirror. The bandage still hugged my neck, pale against my skin. The wound was healing, but the memory of it—cold steel and the scent of blood—refused to fade.

The air outside bit at my cheeks as I stepped into the morning gloom. Leaves crunched under my shoes as I made my way toward the Vigilante Training Block. The campus was unsettlingly quiet, as if the whole world had exhaled and forgotten to breathe in again. Even the usual rustle of early risers or the distant thrum of music from someone’s window was missing. Lanterns still flickered from the night before, their dying light casting long, jumpy shadows across the stone walkways.

It felt like something was watching me. Not paranoia—instinct.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake it off. Dominion Point Academy was one of the most fortified academies in North America. I was surrounded by trained Vigilantes, fortified walls, and top-tier surveillance. I told myself I was safe.

But fear didn’t care about logic.

The heavy doors to the Training Block creaked as I pushed them open, the chill clinging to me as I stepped inside. The air was sharp with the scent of sweat and rubber mats, but the usual sound of grunting effort and sparring students was absent.

Then I saw him.

Ashford stood in the far corner, a black t-shirt clinging to his frame like it had been poured on. His back was to me, ponytail damp with sweat, fists hammering into a heavy bag with methodical fury. Each strike landed with a thud that reverberated through the walls like aftershocks. Controlled, brutal, unrelenting. He looked like he was fighting something only he could see.

And it wasn’t the bag.

I couldn’t look away.

There was something dangerous in his silence, something beautiful in the way his anger shaped every movement. When he finally stopped, breath rising hard and fast, he turned toward me—eyes sharp, unreadable, almost glowing in the dim light.

“No,” he said.

The word cut through the air like a blade.

“Good morning to you too,” I replied, folding my arms. My heart was doing Olympic-level gymnastics behind my ribs.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.