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Sad for Melissa and what she turned out to be, but . . . she was always a little off, even if I couldn’t see it.
Sad that she’s dead, now, and there’s nothing I could have done to stop it.
Sad that I’ve roped Mason into this and now, the threat over our head lingers nearly every passing moment.
When does it all end?
Then I look up and spot a person across the street.
Their hood is drawn low over the eyes, so I can’t make out their features through the rain, but I can tell it’s a woman from the way the soaking wet hoodie clings to her body.
She’s watching me.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper, stumbling off of the stool.
Anger rushes through me at the prospect of them thinking they can just show up at Mason’s shop and creep on me. I stride toward the front door, prepared to go across the street and give them a piece of my mind.
I’m sick of being tormented by creepy poems and disgusting nightmares. I’m tired of the secrets that we keep uncovering and I’m no longer willing to be controlled.
No one owns me. Not Mom, not Missy.
Not even Mason.
But . . . as I make my way to the front, a truck passes, and when it’s gone, so is the person across the street.
I’m so blinded by the confusion swirling around my mind that when the mail truck pulls to a stop, right in front of the shop, I fall to a screeching halt at the door.
“One package today, Miss.” The mail driver smiles, completely oblivious to the ominous feeling surrounding the shop.
“Thank you,” I murmur, taking it absentmindedly while I stare at the spot across the street where the person was standing.
My heartbeat thuds in my chest, slow and off-pitch.
They were right fucking there.
“Says here I need a signature from a Ms. Hannah Gaines. That you?”
My eyes snap back to the mailman’s, nausea bubbling in my stomach. Finally, I glance down at the package. Sure enough, it’s got my name on the address label. No return address.
Oh, thiscannotbe anything good.
“Okay,” I stammer, voice uneven and I take the pen from him, signing his electronic handheld.
“Great, you have a nice day, now.”
I nod and then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the creepy box and whatever the hell could be inside.
I look at his back as he retreats. Then the package. Mail guy’s back. Package.
Tap tap tap.
Shit, I’m losing my mind.
I suck in a deep breath, a shudder rolling through me. I check across the street again, but whoever was there is long gone, so I make my way back to my desk.
It’s just a box. What could possibly be inside that’s so deadly?
My first thought is a bomb, but it feels as empty as air.
