To your credit, you were trying not to be mad.

Sure, Grace had lied about how long she’d known the man whose house you were now all at. Yes, she had gotten irresponsibly piss-drunk and accepted his invitation for the friend group to stay the night. And, okay, she had also been pushing you at him all night, trying to play wingman, despite the fact that you were seriously not over your recently-broken engagement.

But right now, she was really trying your patience by hogging the bathroom.

You slam your fist against the door again, not even sure if she’s hearing you. Asher slides out of the shadows, something he seemed uncannily good at, and smiles at you.

“There’s a bathroom in my room. First door at the top of the stairs.” He lifts his glass, pointing with one finger towards the back stairwell. Because he was too rich to have just one staircase in his creepy secluded mansion.

“Thanks,” You mutter, slipping away quickly. Something about him rose the hair on your arms, but you couldn’t pin down what. He said he lived in ‘the estate’ with several others, yet only a couple of them had seemed to show face. They all gave you the same bad feeling. You really didn’t want to spend the night here.

You finish washing your hands, and start walking out of the bedroom when something catches your eye. An ornate wood-carved coyote mask hangs on a hook by the door, as if it was used regularly, despite its old appearance. It seems almost meticulously clean, yet the straps are discolored at the ends. You step closer, rubbing one of the dangling leather straps between your fingers. Blood smears across your skin. Fresh.

“Snooping?”