The words glared back at him like an open wound.
STOP READING.
Kade stood frozen, his chest heaving, sweat and blood dripping down his face in messy streaks. His vision swam, colors bending at the edges, like someone had crumpled reality and tried smoothing it out again.
“Stop… reading?” he whispered, his throat raw. His voice sounded wrong—too loud, too hollow—like it belonged to someone else.
The letters weren’t smeared. They weren’t a trick of the light. They were carved into the wall, jagged and deep, each line glistening with his blood. He knew because his hands were still dripping, trembling, slick with crimson.
Kade stumbled backward, boots scraping against concrete. His legs shook so badly he almost fell again.
“No. No. This—this is a joke. Some sick…” He stopped, his words f
