Hide Seek Kill - A Thriller Novel || Draft One

One: Elizabeth

Many people have secrets, but none are as dark as the one that Elizabeth Allen holds close to her heart. Or so she thinks.

Her eyes flutter open and once she realizes that she's not in her own bed, she jolts upwards. The room is dim, but used to working under the cover of the shadows, her eyes quickly adjust.

This definitely isn't her bedroom. She stands up and in a flash was feeling her pants and sleeves for her belongings.

Elizabeth sighs in relief when her hand brushes against the bulk of the knife that was in her hidden pocket. She cautiously scans the room to assess the situation.

"Who are you?"

She nearly jumps at the sudden noise and glares in its direction. Who was that? The figure advances and Eliza reaches for her weapon.

"I might ask you the same question," she replies evenly.

Now that he was closer, Eliza could see that the figure wore a smug grin.

"I asked first."

"Who I am doesn't concern you," she snaps. He takes another step forward, their noses an inch apart. Shivers go down her spine when she feels his hot breath on her neck.

"Actually it does," he whispers. "Because we're not the only ones trapped in a room with no obvious exit."

Eliza takes a moment to look around again, and sees that there are no windows or doors. They are stuck.

The strand of her hair is within his fingers' reach. Once again, he lunges for her, but this time Eliza catches his wrist before it can brush against her face. Her knife flashes in the air and suddenly she holds the blade at his throat.

"What is your name?" she asks. She could only feel so sure that this is a body similar to hers if she has been stalking him before now. Something about him seems different from other humans; the way he moves, the way he holds himself, even the way he acts — it all makes him stand out like a sore thumb among the humans who surround her.

His mouth turns up into a grin as if he knows something she doesn't. But she gets distracted by his eyes. They are deep pools of brown that seem too old for his adolescent face.

She shifts her weight ever so slightly and feels her knees sink into the carpet as she presses down on him harder with her knee and blade, relishing the fresh drops of blood that now stain its tips.

"I asked you a question!" she says, injecting an edge in her tone. He winces at her words that cut off sharply like knives. His eyes lower in submission and for a moment she feels victorious —until something shifts under them...something mischievous, like that swarm of butterflies running amok inside of her stomach when someone is looking at her right.

Only it's multiplied by tenfold because she has no idea what he is thinking or how he feels about what is going on between them. That mysterious smile returns to his lips...and then they're upside-down?

He had reversed their positions, him now being the one on top of her. Eliza's eyes widen in shock. Looks like she'll have to be careful around this guy.

"If you must know, it's Presley. London Presley." He stands up and offers her his hand.

Great, so he's chivalrous too. Why does that name sound familiar, Eliza wonders. She knows she has heard it before. Oh! Yes! While on a mission in London, she was to steal a very important file from Interpol. Presley was to be her informant, but never showed up.

Then it clicks and her eyes angrily flash in recognition.

"You!" she spat. He looks at her in surprise but sees her hand a second too late. With gritted teeth, she rears back her hand and strikes his cheek twice with a deafening crack. He winces in pain as red handprints appear on his skin.