Page 30

Pearl

The sun was barely up, casting a pale orange glow across the tops of the trees when I opened the cabin door. I’d woken up a few minutes ago to the sound of birds chirping and a strange, uneasy feeling in my chest. Anchor was in the bathroom, the sound of running water and movement behind the closed door grounding me.

I’d only planned to step out onto the porch for a second, maybe take a breath of the fresh morning air before figuring out what to make for breakfast. But the moment I stepped outside, my foot nearly caught something at the top of the steps.

I blinked and bent down.

An envelope.

Just a plain white one. No markings. No name.

A chill crept up my spine as I picked it up. It wasn’t heavy, but I felt a bump in it.

Behind me, the bathroom door opened.

“What’ve you got, doll?”

I turned, still holding the envelope.

“It was just sitting here. On the step.”

Anchor frowned. He plucked the envelope from my hand and tore it open.

I didn’t have to see what was inside to know.

The look on his face told me everything.

Another USB.

“Do you think…”

I started, my voice shaky.

“I don’t know what to fucking think anymore, Pearl,”

he snapped, though not at me. His voice was sharp with frustration and fear.

“Get your shoes on. We’re heading to the clubhouse.”

I nodded and turned, adrenaline already buzzing under my skin. I didn’t change, just shoved my feet into my sneakers and grabbed the sweatshirt from the back of the couch. Anchor pulled on his shirt and shoved his feet into boots. He grabbed the USB, then my hand, and we were out the door.

The gravel crunched beneath our feet, and the early morning air was cool against my bare legs. Anchor didn’t say a word, and neither did I. There was no room for small talk with something like this.

The clubhouse loomed ahead. Anchor didn’t hesitate; he shoved the door open with enough force to make it slam against the wall.

Everyone turned.

Skull stood behind the bar. Post, Piney, Vin, and Prime sat scattered around the room. Wannabe had a spoon halfway to his mouth. Bob held a donut in each hand. All of them froze.

“Fuck,”

Skull muttered, slamming his hand on the bar.

“I saw you on the cameras, but I didn’t think you were gonna come busting in here like your ass was on fire.”

Anchor didn’t respond. He just held up the USB between two fingers.

Every single one of them paled.

“Oh, fuck me,”

Prime muttered under his breath.

Skull snapped his fingers.

“Wannabe, computer. Now.”

Wannabe practically dropped his cereal and bolted from the room.

My heart thudded hard in my chest as Anchor led me to the bar. Skull sat down, and a moment later, Wannabe returned with the black club laptop, setting it in front of him.

“Let’s see what the fuck we’ve got,”

Skull grunted.

Anchor handed over the USB, and Skull inserted it into the laptop. The screen flickered. The cursor spun. A folder popped up.

It was titled: Let’s Play.

My stomach dropped.

Skull clicked it open.

Inside the folder were three things.

One was a distorted audio file labeled Message.mp3. Another was a short video titled Tick Tock. And the last was a folder labeled Photos.

None of us said a word. Skull clicked on the audio first.

A low hum filled the air, followed by static and the faintest sound of laughter. It didn’t sound human. It was warped and echoey, like it had been dragged through hell and back.

Then a voice.

Distorted. Choppy.

“Tick… tock… Anchor. Four… gone. One… safe.”

Me.

I felt Anchor tense beside me. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer.

“Did you miss me?”

the voice rasped.

“This game’s just getting good. Let’s see what you do with a deadline. Four more.”

The audio cut off.

“Fucker,”

Anchor growled. Skull was already clicking on the next file, the video.

It was just a timer.

A black screen with red digital numbers flashing across the middle.

48:00:00

Then the numbers started ticking down.

47:59:59

47:59:58

47:59:57…

“Two days,”

Skull muttered.

“Until what?”

No one answered. Anchor’s jaw flexed. I stayed silent, and my other hand now gripped the edge of the bar.

“Open the photos,”

Anchor ordered.

Skull clicked into the folder.

Four images appeared, but they were too small to see who they were.

Skull started making them bigger.

One was a woman with short curly hair and glasses. Another had bright red hair and looked like she worked at a grocery store, still wearing a name tag that read “Shay.”

The third was blurry, as if taken from a distance through a window of a curvy naked woman. The fourth...

I leaned in, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

“Oh my god,”

I whispered.

“That’s Bernice.”

The photo wasn’t violent. It wasn’t dramatic.

It was her. Just… walking.

Mid-stride down the dirt path between the haunted house and the cabins. Her arms swung at her sides like she always did when she was complaining about her back. Same bandana. Same puffy vest she wore when it was chilly in the morning. Same no-nonsense look on her face.

The picture was taken from the woods. Far back. At an angle no one should’ve been at unless they were hiding. Watching. Stalking.

Anchor leaned forward with his fists clenched.

“Timestamp says this was yesterday.”

I swallowed hard.

“I saw her take that exact path. She waved me off when I offered to walk with her.”

Skull blew out a slow breath.

“This was close. Real close. That photo was taken right here. Right under our fucking noses.”

I stared at the screen, and the image burned into my brain.

Just a regular moment, one Bernice hadn’t known someone else was watching.

Anchor’s voice was quiet but lethal.

“They’re not just playing games anymore. They’re getting braver.”