Madness & Mayhem:

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © 2023 by A.R. Breck. All rights reserved. Cover design by Pretty Little Design Co Editing by Rumi Khan Formatting by AJ Wolf Graphics Table of Contents COPYRIGHT CONTENT WARNING PLAYLIST CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHATPER SEVENTEEN EPILOGUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS BOOKS BY A.R. BRECK ABOUT THE AUTHOR FOLLOW ME CONTENT WARNING Madness & Mayhem contains mature themes that might make some readers uncomfortable. Foul language, criminal activity, drug use, explicit scenes, and various kinks are included in this book. People with triggers should read with caution. PLAYLIST Want to hear the Madness & Mayhem playlist? Find it here. Chapter One LAKYN Tears flow endlessly down my cheeks, cooling as they kiss the night air. They create a river through my makeup, clinging to my skin as they race toward the edge of my chin. My jaw grinds, and the tears wobble back and forth before plummeting toward my wrist. I can feel the splash as each drop rolls down my palm and the handle of the knife clutched in my grip. My fingers squeeze tightly, and I watch as my tears mix with blood as they slide down the blade, soaking into the bloody wound against the man in front of me. The slasher. My lover. My enemy. Blood seeps between the blade and my palm, and I choke out a sob as it sinks in a little deeper. My masked man chokes, letting out a groan as he curls over slightly. “Please,” he wheezes. Screams ensue around us, and all I can hear is, “Police, police, police.” He looks up at me, his brow furrowed, dark, sharp shadows cutting down his face, becoming pale as every drop of blood flows from his body. “You have to let me go, or there won’t be a tomorrow for us.” My heart leaps in my chest, and I let out a hiccup as more tears fall. I never want to see you again. I blink. I can’t live without you. “Please, Lakyn,” he pleads, his voice a pained groan that rips from his chest. I can hear the blood squish between my fingers, and on a gasp, I pull the knife free, my fingers coated in warm, thick blood. A sob rips from my chest as the knife drops from my fingers, falling to the rocky sand beneath me. His breaths are labored as he hunches forward, his hand pressed firmly against his wound. He looks as if he’s barely able to stand, so much pain ripping through his body his eyes are slits, his lips cracked and bleeding, a sheen of red covering them. He’s going to die. Panic rolls through me, and I can’t find the words to explain. Pain, regret, anger, betrayal… it all runs through my blood at a rapid pace and I can’t find it in me to let out anything besides a tortured whimper. He looks up at me, his eyes blank, though I can see the emotion that’s deep inside, all the way at the bottom, buried beneath all the death. Love. So much love. He steps up to me, and I can feel the blood on his shirt smear across my costume. His body falls into me, and I can barely hold him up as his lips press against mine. The taste of his blood is powerful against my lips. His free hand lifts, and he buries it into my hair, his fingers curling around the strands as he pulls my head to the side. Dragging his fingers up my head, his fingers swirl through the messy strands of my hair. “You can hide from the world, Lakyn, but you’ll never be able to hide from me,” he whispers, his fingers sliding over my chin. “We’re the same. Your madness is the same as mine. Don’t hide, because I’ll be back, and we’ll create the most beautiful mayhem.” My chest shakes as I inhale, confused at his words, at the cryptic message that spills from his lips in the face of death. Nothing makes sense, though he’s the only thing I can focus on. The pain is too great, as if I have my own knife plunged into my gut. I want him to leave. I never want to let him go. My mind, heart, and soul are torn, yet he chooses for me, giving me one sad, pained look before he slides his own mask over his face, straightening his body the best he can before running off. The moment he’s in the woods, people flood out, surrounding me, screaming and shouting at my best friend, who has drowned in a pool of his own blood. Some random girl looks at me. “What happened to him?” she screams. “What did you do?” Tears flow down her cheeks, as if she has a close relationship to him or something. Like they mean anything to each other. As if their hearts have been connected for years. My chest blooms with anger, until my ribs feel as if they’re shredding apart, opening and allowing the torment and pain of my best friend’s death to seep inside. “Shut the fuck up!” I snarl, feeling like a rabid dog as spit flies from my mouth. “Get the fuck away from him.” “You murdered him, didn’t you?” another girl asks, fear in her tone. Her mouth twists in horror. “You killed your own friend, just liked you killed everyone else in this town!” She