The Murder House Chapter 9

Playing it safe, I called the property management office.

They did have an employee named Marcus.

But he wasn't on duty tonight.

My heart seized.

The man outside in the black raincoat and cap was definitely not simple.

First: He knew the property staff.

Second: He knew details about my daily life.

Third: His goal was to get me to open the door.

What was his motive?

Murder? Dismemberment? Cooking my remains?

One wrong move and I might share my sister's fate.

Dead at the hands of a highly intelligent criminal.

Seeing the door wouldn't open, the pounding started again.

Clearly, the killer was losing patience.

The endless waiting stirred up his emotions.

I couldn't tip him off or rashly open the door.

The camera was destroyed—I hadn't captured the killer's face.

If I missed this chance, catching him again might be impossible.

"Marcus, I'm so sorry—I can't find my scooter key."

"Just wait, let me check my bag again."

...

Deliberately stalling for time.

I prepared the tranquilizer spray.

Remote control in hand, I looked through the peephole. The hallway light had gone out again.

No movement. I couldn't tell where he was standing.

Only one shot at this. If I missed, it would all be for nothing.

"Miss, isn't your key right there on the shoe cabinet?"

Terror shot down my spine, goosebumps rising. I crossed my arms over my chest.

How... how did he know?

Ever since I'd rented this murder house, I hadn't moved a single thing from my sister's original setup.

The scooter was Emma's too.

Grief and hatred filled my brain.

I excitedly grabbed the axe hanging on the wall.

This was for the killer. I'd chop off his limbs and head.

Unable to control my surging emotions, I broke out in sweat.

Fight to the death. Never back down.

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