Marcus
Sunlight sliced through my curtains like a spotlight, hitting the posters on my wall and stabbing straight into my skull.
I groaned.
My head felt like someone had stuffed it with wet cement and left it overnight.
For a few seconds, I just lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to remember where I was.
Then it came back.
My room.
My bed.
Last night.
The game.
Jayden's party.
Gunshots.
And—
The figure in the woods.
My stomach tightened so suddenly I had to sit up.
A sharp chill crawled up my spine despite the warmth of the room.
Red eyes.
Watching me.
Not the crowd.
Not the chaos.
Me.
I dragged both hands down my face and muttered, "Nope."
Because if I let myself sit with that thought too long, I was either going to panic or convince myself I imagined it.
Probably both.
I forced myself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom.
The mirror was not kind.
My hair was sticking up in every direction, and I looked like I'd been dragged through a hedge.
"Beautiful," I muttered.
I opened the medicine shelf, grabbed aspirin, and swallowed two dry before chasing them with water from the sink.
By the time I went back to my room, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Noah.
Meet us at the mall. Don't bail.
I stared at it.
For a second, I considered ignoring him and spending the entire day under my blanket pretending the world wasn't weird.
But Noah would absolutely show up at my house if I ghosted.
And Riley would roast me for the next six months.
So—
I sighed, texted back on my way, and headed downstairs.
The smell of pancakes hit me halfway down the stairs.
Mom was in the kitchen humming softly, flipping batter like she had all the time in the world.
It was such a normal sound that for a second, I just stood there.
Watching.
Trying to remind myself that this was real.
This was my life.
"Morning, sweetie," Mom said without turning. "Sleep well?"
I blinked and forced myself back into motion.
"Yeah," I said, stifling a yawn. "Pretty good."
She glanced at me over her shoulder, suspicious in that mom way that made lying feel impossible.
"You look tired."
"Late night."
"You boys won, right?"
That made me smile, genuinely this time.
"Yeah. We did."
She grinned. "That's my boy."
She reached out and ruffled my hair like I was ten.
I rolled my eyes but let her.
For the next ten minutes, she talked about groceries, work, and how Dad had somehow broken the TV remote.
I answered when needed, but part of me stayed elsewhere.
Every now and then, my mind drifted back to the woods.
To those eyes.
To the feeling that it had recognized me.
I shoved another forkful of pancake into my mouth to shut my brain up.
Normal.
Today was normal.
That was the plan.
The mall was packed.
Bright lights, loud voices, kids running around like they were powered by sugar and bad decisions.
By the time I found Noah and Riley near the entrance, some of the heaviness had already started to lift.
Noah spotted me first.
"There he is," he said dramatically. "The man. The myth. The goal-scoring legend."
Riley snorted.
"Please. He's one headache away from collapsing."
I narrowed my eyes. "You two are so supportive."
"That's what friends are for," Noah said, throwing an arm around my shoulders.
And just like that—
I felt lighter.
Not fixed.
Not fully.
But better.
Noah insisted we hit the arcade first because apparently it was "tradition."
"It is not tradition," Riley said.
"It is in my heart," Noah replied solemnly.
The arcade smelled like stale popcorn and carpet cleaner.
Perfect.
Noah marched straight to the basketball machine like he was entering the Olympics.
"Watch greatness," he announced.
He missed the first shot so badly it bounced off the rim and nearly hit a toddler.
Riley folded in half laughing.
"Oh my God."
The second shot somehow went backward.
A worker behind the prize counter flinched like this was a recurring issue.
Noah glared at the machine like it had personally betrayed him.
"It's rigged."
"Sure," I said. "The machine is threatened by your talent."
Riley stepped up next.
She sank basket after basket effortlessly.
Noah looked genuinely wounded.
"This is sexism."
That got me laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
For the first time since last night, the tension in my chest loosened.
We drifted through stores after that.
Noah tried to convince us that a neon orange shirt covered in flamingos was "peak masculine fashion."
Riley told him he looked like a tropical warning sign.
He asked me to back him up.
I told him he'd get arrested for disturbing the peace.
Riley laughed so hard she had to lean against a shelf.
It was stupid.
Pointless.
Perfect.
We got fries, then ice cream.
Noah chose chocolate.
Riley got strawberry.
I got vanilla.
Which immediately became a crime apparently.
"You're so boring," Noah said.
"It's classic," I argued.
"It's flavorless sadness."
Riley raised her cone like a judge.
"I side with Noah."
"Traitor."
She grinned. "Correct."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
And that's when it happened.
As we passed a glass storefront—
I saw him.
Tall.
Still.
Red eyes.
Standing behind me in the reflection.
My heart stopped.
I spun around so fast Riley nearly walked into me.
"What?" she said.
The hallway was full of shoppers.
Families.
Teenagers.
Noise.
No glowing-eyed demon.
Nothing.
"You okay?" Noah asked.
I forced a breath.
"Yeah."
They both stared.
"You sure?" Riley said softly.
I nodded.
"Just dizzy for a sec."
It was a lie.
But it was easier than saying:
I think something followed me home from a party shooting.
By the time I got home that evening, the sky was orange and purple.
Mom was setting the table.
Dad was fighting the TV remote like it had insulted him personally.
Ella popped her head over the couch.
"You're alive," she said.
"Barely."
She grinned. "I knew the mall would get you."
Dinner was loud in the best way.
Dad exaggerated a story.
Mom called him out.
Ella somehow got sauce in her hair and blamed me.
Movie night ended in the usual chaos.
Board games. Cheating accusations. Dad pretending not to care when he lost.
It was warm.
Safe.
And for a little while—
I let myself believe that was enough.
That maybe whatever happened last night was over.
That maybe life could still go back to normal.
Later, after everyone went to bed, I lay in the dark staring at my ceiling.
The house was quiet.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Just as my eyes started to drift shut—
A whisper brushed past my ear.
So soft I almost thought I imagined it.
"Rocco…"
My whole body went rigid.
I sat up.
The room was empty.
My window was shut.
My door was closed.
But something was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
And somewhere far beyond my walls—
someone else was already moving.
Unknown POV
"We've wasted enough time."
The voice was sharp enough to cut stone.
Moonlight spilled across the ruined chapel floor, catching on black boots and the edge of a drawn blade.
My companion shifted beside me.
"The boy remembers nothing yet."
I smiled.
"That's exactly why now is the perfect time."
Outside, the wind howled through dead trees.
"He still thinks he's Marcus Cole," I said softly.
"But memories are waking."
I looked toward the distant lights of town.
"Let him have his family. His laughter. His little illusions."
My grin widened.
"Because soon… we take it all."