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PROLOGUE

He comes at me before I’m even fully through the doorway — a blur of fists and fury. No warning. No words. Just impact.

My back hits the floor hard, the breath punched out of me, and suddenly we’re rolling.

He’s on top of me, swinging wildly, one punch catching the side of my jaw so hard my vision whites out. Another lands. My head cracks against the tiles. He’s stronger than he looks. Desperate. Like this is the last thing he’ll ever do.

I grab at anything — shirt, skin, air. My hand hits metal. Small. Cold. A knife. I don’t think. I just move.

I drive it up into him.

The sound he makes isn’t a scream — it’s a choke. A wet gasp.

His hand flies to his throat and comes away red. He blinks at me like he can’t believe it.

I pull the blade back and strike again.

Again.

Again.

Hot blood hits my face, my clothes. His body jerks, then slackens, collapsing over me with dead weight.

I shove him off, choking on the smell. My heart is hammering so hard I can hear it in my skull.

Silence settles. No shouting. No footsteps. Nothing but the drip of blood on tile.

And then… I feel it.

The sense of being watched.

Not by him.

By something else.

Somewhere in the room, a tiny red light glows.