Willow's POV

By the time I got home, a hollow ache had settled deep in my chest, and each step I took felt heavier than the last. The image of that pink-wrapped box, once innocently cheerful, twisted itself over and over in my mind.

It wasn’t just the sight of the rotten animal, its decayed form barely holding together in the tissue paper, it was the raw malice that came with it, the sharp reminder that someone out there wanted to hurt me. I’d thought I’d seen the last of these days, ...