Page 62 of Little Spider

I pull out my phone, shaking off the cracked screen, and force it to load the tracker. She’s not moving fast. She thinks she’s safe.

The ache in my chest sharpens, twisting like a knife. I can’t stand the thought of her out there, thinking she’s free. Thinking she can just slip away and leave me choking on the emptiness she left behind.

I stumble onto the main street, pushing past a group of teenagers, not caring when they shout at me. I keep moving, following the location ping, my mind spinning out of control.

How could she do this to me? I gave her everything. I spent years watching her, learning her habits, finding the perfect way to break her in just right. I didn’t rush it. I gave her time to adjust, to realise that she needed me.

“You don’t just walk away from that,” I snarl, dodging a car as I cross the street.

I spot the edge of a crowd—some kind of parade up ahead, loud music and bright colours. I push through, shoving people aside, ignoring the angry looks and curses thrown my way.

As I break through the line of spectators, I see her.

She’s on the other side of the street, moving fast, slipping between clusters of people, trying to stay out of sight. But I know her. I know the way she moves—that nervous energy, like she’s waiting for the world to cave in.

I duck into the shadows of a storefront, leaning against the brick wall, eyes fixed on her. She glances over her shoulder, and I almost smile when I see the panic in her eyes.

She knows I’m close. She can feel it.

A float goes by—some cheesy marching band blasting music—and the crowd shifts, pushing closer to the road. She hesitates, caught between moving forward and doubling back.

I hum softly to myself, the sound blending with the surrounding chaos.

“Incy wincy spider, climbed up the water spout…”

She freezes, her shoulders tensing, and I see her head whip around, eyes scanning the crowd.

I let the rhyme slip from my lips, dark and slow, just loud enough for her to hear, even over the noise.

“Down came the rain and washed the spider out…”

She knows. She knows I’m here. I see the way her hands shake, the way she clutches her coat tighter around herself.

I take a step forward, blending into the moving crowd, my eyes never leaving her.

“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain…”

Her breathing picks up, and she stumbles backward, bumping into a woman with a stroller. I smirk, watching her panic, knowing she’s trapped, even if she doesn’t realise it yet.

“And the incy wincy spider,”

I whisper, eyes blazing with fury and need,

“climbed up the spout again.”

Her head snaps in my direction, eyes wide, and I make sure she sees me—just a glimpse through the sea of people. Her face pales, and I almost laugh at how delicious her fear tastes.

She bolts, disappearing into the crowd, and my pulse surges, the thrill of the hunt flooding me.

I lick my lips, push off the wall, slip into the crowd, following the trail of her fear.

Run all you want, Little Spider.

I’ll always be right behind you.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RAVEN