Page 121 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

The woods breathed around me. Leaves rustled overhead in a steady rhythm, water trickled over stone, and somewhere farther off birds called in uneven bursts.

The familiar sounds steadied me, bit by bit.

Then, gradually, they stopped.

One bird cut off mid-call. Then another. The rustling in the underbrush faded next, and silence rolled through the trees in slow, unnatural waves until nothing remained except the soft murmur of the creek and my own ragged breathing.

Every instinct sharpened as I straightened.

A twig snapped behind me.

I spun toward the sound, pulse slamming hard against my ribs as my eyes cut through the shadows. At first there was nothing but dark trunks and deeper darkness.

Then a man stepped out from behind a thick pine.

My stomach dropped.

John.

For a second my mind simply refused to take it in. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not now. Not like this. I had no knife, no gloves, no plan of any kind. Just the sweat-soaked running clothes stuck to my skin and my bare hands.

“Well, well…” His voice was low, almost amused. “Didn’t expect to find you out here alone.”

I said nothing. My body shifted on instinct, weight balanced, rear foot back, hands loose but ready. My cat surged under my skin, furious and alert.

John took one slow step forward, head tilted. “Took me a while to place you. Different face. But those eyes…” A low chuckle. “I never forget eyes like yours.”

Revulsion crawled down my spine.

He kept coming, casual, like we were old friends catching up. “Been watching you for weeks. Pack territory. Grocery store. Cemetery. Even outside your house tonight. You really thought no one would notice?”

My jaw clenched. I was supposed to be the hunter.

“Could’ve gone straight to Thomas,” he continued, voice dropping. “But I wanted a little time with you first. Just you and me. Like old times.”

He took another step. Closer now.

“You have any idea how pissed he’s gonna be when he finds out one of the little Mitchell girls survived?”

He hadn’t told Thomas yet. Good.

John’s gaze lingered, ugly and hungry. “We had such fun last time, didn’t we?”

Every instinct screamed at me to strike. But I couldn’t. Not here. The trail was too open, too exposed. Too risky.

I needed him deeper, somewhere the trees would swallow the sound of whatever came next.

I turned and ran.

“You little bitch!” he roared behind me.

Branches whipped across my arms and face as I crashed through the undergrowth, wet earth slipping under my shoes. John charged after me, heavier and louder, smashing through the forest on pure wolf strength.

I kept going until the trail disappeared completely into the denser trees. Only then did I stop and turn sharply to face him.

John burst through a second later, breathing hard, eyes blazing.

“Gonna cut you open,” he snarled. “Then I’m gonna take my time with you. Just like before.”