My eyes go wide and my whole world turns to ice as the giant’s blade rips open the other guy’s throat. Blood gushes out like a tsunami as the huge hand lets go, letting the second attacker drop to the ground.
Wordlessly, his back to me, the huge, hulking shape dressed in black with a hood up over his head walks over to the duffel bag. He turns it upside down, dumping seven bricks of white powder onto the ground. I’m still frozen and unable to form words or complete thoughts as I watch him slash each plastic-wrapped brick open and dump the contents down a sewer drain.
Slowly, he stands, flexing his shoulders and straightening up tall.
And taller.
And taller.
My feet are rooted to the ground as the man slowly cocks his head. He twists around, and suddenly, my hand flies to my mouth.
He’s not just huger than huge.
He’s wearing a mask.
All black, with two glowing white neon X’s for eyes, and a wide, demonic, smile, also etched in glowing white neon.
Holy fucking shit.
He turns to face me fully, his head cocking slightly to the side, as if he’s studying me wordlessly.
He’s still holding a knife in his hand.
It’s still dripping blood.
This is it. This is how I go, like one of the unsolved mysteries in my true crime books. Like Rachel Dawson. Another Jane Doe that will wash up a week from now on Brighton Beach without dental records or fingerprints.
He takes a step toward me. My pulse whines like a siren in my ears. My body goes both icy cold and explosively hot in the same instant as he continues to move toward me. My mouth opens and closes. My eyes bulge as the leering, neon mask of pure malice stalks closer and closer.
He doesn’t slow. He doesn’t stop. And when he’s inches away from me, I gasp sharply as his black-gloved hand jerks up and wraps like iron around my throat. I stare up—and I do mean up, he’s like a foot and a half taller than me—into the neon mania of that mask, with the throbbing pulse of darkness behind it burning into my soul.
“Phone.”
The word rasps like metal scraping against metal as it tumbles from his mouth. His voice is deep as thunder, and I can smell a slightly spicy, clean scent on him.
“Wh-what?”
“Your phone,” he rasps again, a little more edge in his voice this time. “Give it to me.”
I nod quickly, shaking all over as I jam my hand into my hoodie pocket and yank out my phone.
“Take it!”
I shudder when his other hand brushes mine when he tears it out of my grip. His head doesn’t move, those neon X’s just burning right into my eyes as he looms over me.
“Unlock code.”
I shiver.
“Code,” he snarls again. “Now.”
Somehow, I manage to remember my numbers, watching as he thumbs them into the phone, opening it. His neon eyes stay locked on me, but I’m sure his real ones—that is, if he’s not actually some sort of demon from Hell—are scanning my phone for God-knows-what as he taps away on it.
“I—I have money!” I blurt. “Like, my family does! Please! You can ask for whatever you want—”
“I’m not robbing you.”
He suddenly thumbs the phone screen back to black and shoves it back into the pocket of my hoodie. His hand lingers there, and I tremble when I feel the back of it brush against my stomach though the fabric. He does it once more before drawing his hand out of the front pocket. He presses a finger lightly to my sternum, and my breath halts as he slowly drags it up—between my breasts and then higher before he wraps that hand around my throat.
His head tilts slightly to the side, and I can feel the psychotic wrath as whatever eyes lurk behind those neon X’s eviscerate my soul.
“What did you see here tonight?”
Even though I’m terrified. Even though I’m shaking. Even though my brain is almost numb trying to process this…
I’m not an idiot.
“Nothing!” I blurt. “I didn’t see anything.”
“What happened to those men?”
“Nothing!”
He stays rigid like that, his head still tilted at a slightly deranged angle, saying nothing. Finally, his hand drops from my neck, but not quickly. It’s more like a slow, almost sensual stroke of his gloved fingers over my soft skin and throbbing pulse as he releases me.
He steps back from me and his voice rumbles out again, like a boulder grinding a smaller rock to sand.
“Remember what you saw here tonight.”
