The coffee in Claire’s cup had gone cold, untouched. Her hands gripped the ceramic like it was the only thing grounding her to reality.
David, across from her, was anxiously bouncing his leg under the table. “We need to call someone,” he whispered.
Claire scoffed. “And say what? ‘Hey, officer, some—thing—chased us, but actually, it just kinda walked, and we’re scared?’ They’d laugh us out of the station.”
David exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “So what do we do? Just wait around until it—until it shows up again?”
Before Claire could answer, the waitress walked up, snapping her gum. “Refill?”
Claire blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, no, thanks.”
The waitress gave them a once-over, her gaze lingering just a second too long on Claire’s wrist.
Claire followed her eyes and froze.
A mark.
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Rs. 899Faint, barely there, like a bruise forming under her skin. A perfect circle.
Her stomach twisted.
“When—when did I—” She ran a finger over it, feeling nothing but her own skin. No pain. No raised edges. But she knew it wasn’t there before.
The waitress arched an eyebrow but said nothing, pouring more coffee for David before walking away.
David stared at Claire’s wrist, his face paler than before.
“Claire.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know what it is,” she said, her own voice shaking.
But she knew.
The figure had marked her.
For what?
She didn’t want to find out.
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