“Are you planning to ask about my favorite scary movie?” I ask slowly, “or are you planning to try to kill me? Kristie doesn’t have money to pay forbounties since she’s dead, and you will join her if you choose to fuck with me.”
The voice pauses for several seconds.
“I like your fire,” the voice says finally, quieter now, almost amused. “Let’s see if you can find me, because you’re very cold right now.”
I step into the hallway with my pulse rising, knife steady in my hand.
“Cold,” the voice says.
I turn left first and check the guest room. The bed is empty. The blinds are closed. The closet door sits slightly open. I push it wider with the tip of the knife and find nothing.
“Still cold.”
I move down the hall, slower now, listening. I check the bathroom next. The shower curtain is open. There is no one inside.
“Freezing.”
My jaw tightens. I step back into the hallway and head toward the stairs.
“Cold.”
I move closer to the top of the stairs outside the gym.
“Still cold.”
I start down, one step at a time, my hand sliding along the railing as the second floor opens into the main level below. My eyes sweep the space automatically, checking the couch, the windows, and every corner.
“Better,” the voice says. “Not by much.”
I step off the last stair and cross the living room, passing the long couch and the wide windows that look out toward the dark line of trees. The glass reflects my movement back at me, knife in hand, shoulders tight. The house is quiet, but something about the silence presses against my skin.
“Warmer.”
I pause near the kitchen and glance toward the back door, then toward the hallway that leads deeper into the house. My pulse starts to pick up.
I turn toward the back hallway. I reach the hallway and slow my steps, every nerve pulling tight.
“Warm.”
I pass the laundry room and find it empty. I check the storage closet and find nothing there.
“Warmer.”
I stop in front of the basement door. My fingers tighten slightly around the knife.
“Hot.”
I push the door open. The staircase down disappears into shadow. I descend slowly, the steps creaking beneath my weight as the tension thickens with every step. My breathing stays controlled, but my pulse is loud in my ears.
“Burning.”
I step off the final stair and onto the basement floor. I flick on the lights, and the room fills with harsh brightness that cuts through every shadow.
The figure stands in the far corner with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest in a posture that shows complete confidence and control. He wears only gray sweatpants that cling low on his hips, exposing the deep line of muscle that frames his abdomen. A faint trail of dark hair runs from his navel downward, disappearing into the waistband of the sweats and drawing my eyes lower before I force them back up.
The black skull mask covers his face entirely, but everything below it is unmistakably Seth.
He looks relaxed and confident and completely aware of the fear he has manipulated inside me.
