Scream For Us (Holiday Masked Men #1)(6)

The guy’s face turns blue, and it’s evident he’s on the verge of being sick.

He holds up his hands, trembling. “I’m sorry,” he exclaims. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, louder, cowering before him.

Ghost lowers his hand, putting away the knife, and finally, I can breathe again. Despite the thrill of having three guys protecting me from vile, drunk frat guys, there isn’t any part of me that believes if I wasn’t standing here, this wouldn’t have gone differently.

The hit comes much quicker than I could have expected. With tremendous force, and just one blow, Ghost’s fist collides with his nose, an eerie crunch sounding on impact.

Football Player stumbles backward, drops to the floor, and cradles his now bloodied face with his hands.

The moment his friends make a move to have his back, he shouts at them. “Leave it alone,” he instructs, not moving an inch. “Just leave it alone.”

Ghost and Michael stare down at him, as still as stone, and time feels as if it has stopped. A sinister feeling washes over me to realize that these frat guys would have sexually assaulted me if they had been given the chance.

If it wasn’t for Ghost, Jason, and Michael.

My breathing hitches, and pure hatred boils in my veins, until Jason’s hand on my shoulder brings me back to reality. I gaze up at him, staring passionately into the eyes of his mask, and he knows. It’s as if he’s read my mind.

Bringing me against his chest, I nuzzle my face into his bulky jacket, and my eyes flutter shut. He holds the back of my head, gently stroking my hair, calming me.

“You’re safe,” he promises, and even with his deep, menacing-like tone, he eases my fears. “And ours.”





Chapter 4





Although some people choose to dress up as monsters on Halloween night, others simply are monsters. Even over the loud music erupting from the surround-sound speakers, the wind howls as it gusts through the open front doors of the house.

More people crowd into the entryway, dressed in a mixture of scary and sexy costumes, smeared in face paint and fake blood. There’s a creepy glow created from the neon lights draped from the ceiling, surrounded by bat and pumpkin décor.

My mind becomes overstimulated as I scan everyone in my path. I’m suddenly dying for a stiff drink, ready for the night to truly begin. The truth is, I’ve never felt more alive.

Candles flicker in the dim kitchen light, spread out across the countertops, showcasing the delicious party treats. There are Halloween-inspired cupcakes, Jack Skellington Oreo pops, and white chocolate-covered strawberries decorated as ghosts.

There’s a large, spiderwebbed, ice-filled bowl that holds fake blood bags filled with dark, red alcohol. The bucket beside it holds large syringes, filled with many colors of different Jell-O flavors. They couldn’t have been more festive.

“Blue raspberry,” a girl’s voice shrieks, as she swoops in front of me and grabs the last blue syringe. “Quinn,” she murmurs, catching me off guard.

It’s Veronica.

The girl who completely ruined my middle school and high school experiences.

My body stiffens, and I can’t find it in me to breathe. Awful memories flood through my mind, of being bullied, the rumors that were spread around about me, and the harassment I had to face every single day. Being bullied on every social media platform known to man is the reason I couldn’t have a cell phone or computer growing up.

More flashbacks race toward me.

Crying myself to sleep, night after night.

My wrists. Razorblades. Blood.

Veronica and her friends, both guys and girls, constantly telling me that my father had killed himself because I was born. Telling everyone he was so repulsed at having me as a daughter, that he took his own life, because of me.

“I haven’t seen you in a few years,” she awkwardly says, forcing a phony smile.

“Yeah,” I unthinkingly blurt out, trembling.

Ghost wraps his arm around my shoulder, bringing me against his firm chest, and I relax in his embrace.

“Oh, you’re with someone,” Veronica points out, sounding appalled, which triggers me.

“She’s with us,” Jason clarifies, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

Michael steps beside us, remaining silent, but making himself known.

Her face drops at the realization.

And suddenly, I’ve never felt more confident. After these last few years, of starting over and learning to be happy with the life I was given, I remember the promise I had made to myself.

To never allow any of my bullies to ever affect me again.

“You took the last one,” I observe, eying her Jell-O shot. “Bummer. Blue raspberry is my favorite.”

“That sucks,” she carelessly remarks, her jaw tightening.

“Give it to her,” Michael orders, and I am blown away.

She scowls. “What?”

“He said, give it to me,” I repeat his words, stepping forward until I’m mere inches away. “But you know what,” I say, hesitating briefly, before taking a cherry-flavored one from the bucket. “I think I’m good. I’m really good, actually. Never been better.”

Pressing my lips around the tip of the syringe, I shoot the Jell-O into my mouth, savoring the taste of vodka that burns the back of my throat.