Page 49 of Tag

My smile faded as I checked my thread with Ashton. Still nothing. My last message was marked read, but no reply. That wasn’t like him at all.

I’m home now. Are you okay?

I grabbed my pajamas from my dresser and went into the bathroom. This was one of my favorite parts of the house. The soft floral wallpaper, the blush-pink vanity, and the gold fixtures gave it a whimsical charm. The patterned tiles were cool beneath my feet, and the air already smelled faintly of vanilla and rose from the wax warmer on the counter. I tapped on my fall playlist and let a familiar track fill the space while I turned on the shower.

Steam began to rise quickly, curling against the frosted glass window that was an inch or two taller than me. It was a strange place to put one, but since you couldn’t see in or out of it, I assumed it was added for natural light or something. I peeled off my clothes and stepped beneath the stream, tilting my face toward the spray. The hot water hit my shoulders and rolled down my back, easing some of the stiffness I'd carried all day. I exhaled slowly, letting the warmth seep into my bones. For a moment, nothing else existed but music, the hiss of the water, and the silence of my thoughts.

I reached for a towel on the rack above the toilet, wrapping it tightly around myself as steam clung to my skin. I grabbedanother for my hair, then wiped a patch of fog from the mirror and reached for my moisturizer.

I had just twisted it open when the window shattered.

Glass exploded across the tiled floor, shards skittering in every direction. I dropped my facial cream and screamed, ducking instinctively, knees nearly giving out as I slipped.

My first thought:it wasn’t gunfire.

My second:why the fuck did I think our house was being shot up?

There was no echo, no popping sound, but the panic was already pulsing through my veins. I caught myself against the sink, eyes wide as I turned toward the broken window. Something round had landed in the mess of broken glass. The bathroom door burst open before I could move toward it, flimsy lock be damned.

“Sanj!” Roxxi barreled inside, brandishing our biggest kitchen knife in one hand and a pair of her brass knuckles in the other. Her eyes swept the room, and behind her, Arianna stumbled in with a fucking saucepan. Cloe was next, gripping the Cedar broom like a javelin.

Bringing up the rear, Layla stood at the doorway, no weapon in hand, just a death grip on the doorframe and a look of pure horror as she stared at the floor. I followed her gaze, my breath catching as I finally realized what I’d been looking at before they busted in. A round, decent-sized rock rested in the center of the bathroom. Attached to it with a long silver ribbon was a dead crow—feathers ruffled, wings bent at odd angles. A crisp parchment colored note was attached to the other end of curled silk.

Roxxi stepped carefully through the glass and bent to retrieve the note, doing her best not to touch the bird too much. Her expression turned murderous as her eyes scanned the paper. “The Hunt,” she seethed. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

“What does it say?” Layla asked.

Roxxi didn’t answer her. Instead, she offered it to me to read. I clutched the towel tighter and took it from her.

“Secrets bleed in the dark.

We can’t wait to spill yours.

The Hunt is an honor,

This time, all of you are ours.”

“Have you just been officially Marked?” Layla asked in disbelief.

I swallowed and gave a small nod. I had called it while walking home earlier, and in the truck with Ryder, but having confirmation was entirely something else. And what the hell was up with their sick method of delivery? The car had been indicating enough.

“Wait,” Roxxi held out her hand, and I gave the note to her again. “All of you?” She re-read the line, her brows pulling together.

Arianna stepped closer and took a look. “It’s not just you, Sanj.”

“What do you mean?” Layla asked, her voice elevating.

“Their choice of words,” Cloe explained. “All of youwouldn’t be Sanj alone.Ours. That’s plural too. It’s implying there are multiple Huntsmen. Whoever did this, they weren’t aiming for only one of us.”

“There are supposed to be rules.” Layla stared down at the crow. “They can’t be allowed to throw a dead bird through a window.”

“Our secret admirer, or admirers, apparently disagree,” Roxxi quipped, eyes still narrowed on the note like she wanted to tear the people responsible in half.

“But how did they know anyone was in here?” Layla questioned.

Arianna turned her head toward the window, frowning thoughtfully. “The lights, possibly,” she motioned to the ceiling and fixture above the mirror. “That window faces the front of the house. Anyone could see it from the street.”

“Then why not throw the rock through one of the living room windows?”

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