Love turns deadly in a new, heart-pounding thriller from Natasha Preston, author of the runaway bestsellers The Cellar and The Cabin.
ROSES ARE RED
VIOLETS ARE BLUE
WATCH YOUR BACK
I’M COMING FOR YOU
Lylah and her friends can’t wait to spend a night out together. Partying is the perfect way to let loose from the stress of life and school, and Lylah hopes that hitting the dance floor with Chase, her best friend, will bring them closer together. She’s been crushing on him since they met. If only he thought of her the same way…
The girls are touching up their makeup and the guys are sliding on their coats when the doorbell rings. No one is there. An envelope sits on the doormat. It’s an anonymous note addressed to their friend Sonny. A secret admirer? Maybe. They all laugh it off.
Except Sonny never comes home. And a new note arrives:
I breathe in deep through my nose and out through my mouth—an exercise my therapist taught me when I started to feel like I was going to fall apart. I can slowly feel myself start to relax when the doorbell rings.
Sighing, I get up. My housemates must’ve forgotten their keys or be carrying too many bags to unlock the door.
I glance through the window, but no one is there.
Another doorbell ditch?
My blood runs cold as I open the door.
An envelope is sitting on our mat. The world turns mute as the blood rushes to my ears. Bending down, I scoop up the envelope. It’s addressed to Isaac. And it looks like exactly the one that came for Sonny.
I turn it over and pull out the note. My hands are shaking as I read:
“Isaac!” rips from my throat.
“What?” he calls from his room down the hall. My voice is trapped in my throat as I look up and down the street. There are still a few folks leaving flowers, looking at the makeshift memorial in front of our house. Did one of them do this? Did one of them see who left the note? I feel so exposed. Vulnerable.
I draw back inside and shut the door, trembling.
Isaac’s footsteps thud from his bedroom into the foyer. “Lylah, what?” His face falls and his eyes widen as he sees what’s in my hand. “Is that another note?”
Nodding, I hand it to him.
“Jesus,” he whispers. “Who was it addressed to?”
I look up at him, my vision blurring with tears. “You.”
About the Author
UK native Natasha Preston grew up in small villages and towns. She discovered her love of writing when she stumbled across an amateur writing site and uploaded her first story and hasn’t looked back since.
She enjoys writing contemporary romance, gritty Young Adult thrillers and, of course, the occasional serial killer.