The Stalker Next Door: 30. The Edge of the Knife

The blade glimmered as the first Watcher dragged it slowly across the table.

Not fast. Not threatening. Just enough for her to hear the scrape of steel against wood.

“Proof,” he murmured, voice like gravel. “I’ve been patient, Mara. I’ve given you more rope than I should have. But you will give me what I ask for, or I will take it.”

Mara’s throat worked. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt.

She wanted to laugh at the irony—rope, as if he hadn’t already bound her in invisible knots.

Instead she lowered her eyes, let her shoulders slump just a fraction. Not submission, not yet. But enough for him to believe she was breaking.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

His hand shot out, seizing her wrist. He dragged her closer until her hip pressed against the table, until the blade’s cold tip grazed her skin.

“A mark,” he said. “Something only I can see. Something no man can erase", he added, looking at her with seriousness. "Something that wi