Back Killing November Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Adriana Mather
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-one
  25. Chapter Twenty-two
  26. Chapter Twenty-three
  27. Chapter Twenty-four
  28. Chapter Twenty-five
  29. Chapter Twenty-six
  30. Chapter Twenty-seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-one
  35. Chapter Thirty-two
  36. Chapter Thirty-three
  37. Chapter Thirty-four
  38. Chapter Thirty-five
  39. Chapter Thirty-six
  40. Chapter Thirty-seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-one
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. ADRIANA MATHER
  47. What’s next onyour reading list?

I inch along the body, my pulse drumming furiously in my temples. From what I can tell from the clothes, it looks like a guy, lying on his back. And there’s something…Oh god, I think. It’s a knife. A knife is sticking out of his chest. As I continue to stare, I notice that the entire front of him is dark, but the student uniform shirts are white….“Blood,” I breathe almost inaudibly. My throat is bone-dry.

I kneel down next to him, my knees nearly giving out, and I force myself to stretch a hand toward his neck. My fingers are shaking when they find it—cold skin, no pulse. His long hair sticks to his cheeks. Long hair…Oh god, it’s Matteo’s friend from the dining hall. I look around me for an answer, for help. There’s nothing and no one. Dead. He’s dead. My mind loops the realization and my vision blurs. For a moment I think I’m going to pass out.

I open my mouth to call for help but freeze before a sound escapes my lips. There is no one to call. If I run to get a guard there’s every possibility they’ll think I did it. Not to mention the eye-for-an-eye punishment system here. I take one more desperate look around, like an answer might somehow pop out of the shadows.

I shake my head, trying to get my bearings. I can’t stay here. Being caught with the body would be a thousand times worse than calling a guard. Not to mention being caught by the killer. There’s no guarantee that whoever did this isn’t lurking nearby.

Instantly, I have that unnerving sensation of something dangerous looming behind me, the kind that used to send me running out of our basement when I was a little kid. I stand up, feeling sick at the thought of leaving him in the dark, drenched in his own blood, but equally terrified to stay. Who can I—

Layla. Layla will know what to do.

I run along the wall, fear pushing me forward faster than is cautious, and I duck into the stairwell. Every detail of my surroundings comes sharply into focus, the worn third step, the oddly shaped stone by the ceiling, the silence. I methodically make my way up the stairs, listening for all I’m worth and examining every shadow.