The Stalker Next Door: 22. Brutal

The leather strap bit into Mara’s wrist every time she pulled. Her skin was rubbed raw already, her ankle swollen from the river rocks.

But it wasn’t the physical pain that hollowed her out. It was the silence.

He hadn’t come back for hours. She’d heard the sound of water running once, the creak of floorboards, the faint scrape of something sharp against wood. Then nothing.

He was letting her stew. Letting her fear curdle into desperation.

The lock clicked.

Her head jerked up. He stepped inside, the cut on his forearm now bandaged, his shirt rolled to his elbows. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, pupils wide, his jaw clenched tight.

He closed the door and stood over her, saying nothing.

Mara forced her voice to be steady. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

His head tilted. “And you nearly opened my veins by the river. You made your choice, Mara.”

Her stomach twisted.

He reached into his back pocket and drew out the kni