Alexia – POV
Okay. So I was almost out of the alley, still trying to shake the creeps from that gross encounter with those two trash bags in hoodies, when I turned a corner—mistake number fifty of the day—and ended up on some shady-ass residential street that looked like it had been forgotten by God, the city, and even Google Maps.
And that's when I heard it.
The bark.
Low.
Mean.
Hungry.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Slowly—so slowly—I turned my head toward the sound, and there it was.
A dog.
No. Not a dog.
A beast.
Somewhere between a pit bull, a rottweiler, and every childhood nightmare I ever had about Cujo. Its fur was patchy, teeth bared in a snarl, foaming just enough around the mouth to make me wonder if it had rabies or was just naturally demonic. Its eyes locked on me like I was the exact flavor of chaos snack it had been waiting for all morning.
"Nice doggy," I whispered, hands lifting instinctively. "Good boy. Chill."
But no.
This creature didn't do chill.
