The Gift
262 Words
The box was waiting outside her door.
It was small, neatly wrapped in matte black paper, tied with a single strip of crimson ribbon.
Elara crouched down, her gloved fingers brushing the bow. She didn’t open it right away — the weight was telling enough.
Heavy, uneven, with something that shifted when she tilted it.
She carried it inside, locking the door behind her.
When the paper came off, the scent hit her first — metallic, raw.
Inside, beneath a layer of tissue, was a glass jar. Floating in cloudy liquid was a severed finger.
Not just any finger. She recognized the chipped pink nail polish, the glitter worn down at the edges. She remembered it because she had been the one to chip it — back when the owner had still been breathing.
Pinned to the inside of the lid was a small, folded note.
She opened it with care.
“You missed a spot.”
Her pulse didn’t spike. She didn’t gasp or drop the jar. Instead, a slow, amused smile curved her lips.
Cade wasn’t guessing anymore. He knew.
And more than that — he was telling her he could touch her work without fear.
She placed the jar on the counter, beside her knife block, and poured herself a glass of wine. She took a slow sip, staring at the finger.
“If you want to play, Cade,” she whispered into the stillness, “I’ll play.”
But in her mind, she was already deciding how their game would end — with his blood on her hands.
- Writer
