The man on the wooden chair in the middle of the room has a towel stuffed into his mouth that’s secured behind his head, and his face is all beaten up and bloody. He’s tied up with ropes, both feet and hands cuffed. There’s a gaping wound in his thigh that’s soaking through his jeans, and the blood drips all over the flimsy chair and broken-down floor.
Perry.
His eyes find mine, and he squeals against the fabric, jerking against the restraints.
“Hello, Perry. Do you know who I am?” I shove my knife underneath his chin, sliding past his neck as he swallows.
He shakes his head.
“I assumed you wouldn’t, but I’ll thoroughly introduce myself to you,” I say. “You’re just gonna have to wait a little bit longer. I have a stalker to catch.”
Whoever did this was prepared…
They’re here. And I’m not letting them get away.
I walk around Perry and head into the kitchen, inspecting every corner of the room to make sure whoever texted me isn’t here, before I head upstairs. I kick open the first door I find and hold out my knife, ready to strike.
Nothing.
I lift the sheets and look under the bed, but no one is there, and when I tear open the closet, it’s empty too.
Where could he be?
I check the next room’s corners and closets, not skipping a single inch, but the person I’m looking for is nowhere to be found. I step out of the last room and glance out the window.
A demonic mask glints in the daylight.
Gotcha.
I bolt down the stairs, skipping several steps, then rush through the living room toward the road outside.
THWACK!
My knife lands in the bark of the tree behind which the masked guy just ducked for cover.
Fuck.
The guy bolts off through the woods with a backpack strapped to his shoulders, and I go for the chase, ready to hunt him down. I’m not letting this fucker out of my sight, not this time.
He zigzags past the trees haphazardly, nearly tumbling over a lone rock, and I laugh.
“Can’t even keep your footing?”
I throw another knife, and it lands right beside his feet.
He crawls off the ground and runs off, leaves scattering about as he attempts to get away from me.
“Yeah, run like a dog with your tail between your legs!”
I’m in hot pursuit, darting right after him like a cat on the heels of the mouse she’s going to catch. When we’re in an open clearing, he suddenly turns around and pulls out his own knife, standing his ground.
A smile forms on my face. “Oh … decided you’re going to fight me now? Exciting.”
“I don’t want to, but I will if I have to.”
My eyes narrow.
Why do I recognize that voice?
