Shirley
I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the man in the forest again—bleeding, shifting, whispering things I didn’t understand. And that mark. The glowing, pulsing symbol just below my collarbone. I tried scrubbing it off with soap. Cold water. Even a rough towel.
Nothing worked.
Because it wasn’t on my skin.
It was in it.
By morning, I was a shell of myself—tired, aching, and no longer interested in pretending that everything was okay. I threw on a hoodie to hide the mark and called Dante’s number from the card he left on my counter.
He picked up on the second ring.
“I need to see you,” I said, skipping greetings. “Now.”
A pause.
Then, “I’ll meet you out back behind the bar. In fifteen.”
I didn’t wait to think. Just grabbed my keys and he
