Page 9 of Dolls of Ruin

But before I could decide, he turned abruptly and disappeared down the alley beside the boutique. No hesitation, no backward glance—just a sharp, almost mechanical movement that sent another shiver skittering through me.

I quickened my pace, my breath fogging in the crisp evening air. I needed to get away from here before he came back.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t break into my shop tonight.

Seven

The lock clickedopen with a faint metallic groan, and I hesitated before stepping inside. The shop felt... off, somehow. The air was colder than it should’ve been, carrying the faint smell of dust and something metallic. It wasn’t the kind of wrong I could explain—it was the kind that settled in my chest, whispering that something wasn’t right.

My boots creaked against the floorboards as I closed the door behind me, sliding the deadbolt into place. I didn’t usually double-check the locks after opening, but today was different. Yesterday’s customer—the way he’d stared through the shop window like he was seeing something I couldn’t—had me on edge.

I lingered by the counter, scanning the room. Nothing seemed out of place, but the silence felt heavier than it should’ve. My gaze drifted toward the dolls on the workbench. The space where the golden one had been was glaringly empty.

I shook my head, trying to shake the unease with it. “You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered, though my voice didn’t carry much conviction.

Still, I made my way around the shop, checking the windows, the locks, and even the storage room. Nothing was disturbed. No sign of a break-in. No sign that the man had come back.

The knock on the door made me jump so hard I nearly dropped my keys.

Through the glass, I saw a courier standing on the stoop with a small box under his arm. I opened the door just wide enough to take the package. It wasn’t heavy, but it had enough weight to make me curious.

“Thanks,” I said, but the courier was already halfway down the street. I locked the door again, sliding the bolt into place before carrying the box to the counter.

There was no sender information. No label. Just plain brown cardboard sealed with thick tape.

I grabbed a pair of scissors from under the register, slicing carefully along the edges. The flaps opened with a soft scrape, and I froze.

Inside, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, was the golden doll I’d sold yesterday.

My breath caught in my throat. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, that’s not possible.”

I reached in and pulled him out, my fingers trembling as they brushed against the tiny coins on his skin. The faint smudge on his foot—the one I’d noticed when I cleaned him—was still there, exactly where it had been.

“It’s you,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. “How the hell…?”

I set the doll on the counter and stepped back, my mind scrambling for answers. This had to be a prank. The man must’ve brought it back somehow. But how? The shop had been locked all night, with the alarm set.

I checked the box again, searching for a note, a receipt, anything that might explain why the doll was here. Nothing.

Pulling out my phone, I scrolled to the payment details for the sale. No refund request. No message. No indication that the man had returned the doll or tried to contact me.

I switched to the shop’s camera feed, my pulse hammering in my ears. The footage from last night was useless—just static, flickers of light, and shadows that made my stomach twist.

“Of course,” I muttered, tossing the phone onto the counter. “Because why would this be easy?”

I turned back to the workbench, and my stomach tightened.

The remaining dolls looked different. Not physically—nothing had changed about their pristine porcelain faces or intricate details—but their presence felt heavier.

The one with ruby-red eyes seemed to loom, his gaze sharper, more focused. The jagged one with the cracked grin—his posture leaned forward just slightly, as if he’d been waiting for something.

And then there was the sly one, his smirk somehow even more infuriating than before, like he knew a secret I didn’t.

I reached for the golden doll again, my fingers brushing against a tiny coin on his chest. A faint buzzing sensation crawled up my arm, and I jerked back, clutching the edge of the counter for balance.

“What the hell is going on?” I hissed, glaring at the dolls.

The shop creaked softly, the sound coming from somewhere near the shelves. My head snapped toward the noise, my pulse quickening.

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