Page 211 of Tag
A masked face was pressed against the window, so close I could see the fog of their breath. In one hand, they held a knife. In the other… they lifted a bloody palm and pressed it flat against the window. Slowly, deliberately, they dragged it down, drawing a jagged, broken heart in the smear of red. I stumbled back, a scream trapped and thrashing inside me.
No sign of Ryder.
No sound but the rain drumming harder now, blurring the world beyond the glass.
Another tap—louder, sharper, like a command.
They tilted their head, studying me with a quiet, almost curious stillness. The knife turned in their hand, before theyslammed the hilt against the window. The crack of it split the air like a gunshot.
I screamed.
My phone slipped from my shaking hands, clattering to the floor mat.
Their gloved finger tapped once more against the glass. Then, they lifted the blade and slowly curled it inward, a deliberate beckon.
Come play.
