He cocks his head to the side. “Why’d you try to take off my mask?” All I do in response is bite my lip in an attempt to get it to stop quivering. I search through my brain for every possible lie I can come up with. Telling a serial killer that I was planning on turning him in for money seems like a quick way to end up with a bullet in my skull. “I wanted to see the face of the man who saved me,” I say cautiously. He gives me a dangerous glare and goes completely still. I gulp, because I can just see it in the tension of his shoulders that I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t have touched with a
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