WET PUSSY

On the rain-soaked streets of Blackthorn City, whispers follow a drenched black cat the locals call Wet Pussy. To some, it's just a stray. To others, it's an omen. But to one woman, its sudden appearance at her doorstep marks the beginning of a nightmare. After a stormy night leaves her staring at a bloody handprint on her window, she's dragged into the dark underworld surrounding an infamous bar that bears the same name. Inside its walls, secrets are traded like currency, and disappearances are explained away with chilling ease. When her closest friend vanishes without a trace, she realizes the mystery isn't just about the bar or the cat. It's about her. Someone knows her past, someone is pulling her strings, and every step deeper into the shadows feels like walking into a trap. But what if the cat isn't just a bystander? What if it's the only witness and the key to unraveling the truth? With twists at every turn, Wet Pussy is a suspense charged thriller where nothing is as it seems, and survival depends on who you trust when the storm falls.

Chapters

Chapter 5

Selene pressed her back against the wall, clutching the damp paper so tightly her knuckles whitened. The words DON'T TRUST THE CAT burned in her mind. The storm still raged outside, but in here, it felt too quiet, as if the walls were swallowing sound.

She risked one glance toward the couch.

The cat hadn't moved, but its eyes gleamed like molten coins in the dim light. It blinked once slowly then tilted its head. That tiny movement felt deliberate, almost human.

A chill shivered down her spine.

Her rational mind screamed for explanations: someone slipped the letter under her door, she hallucinated the handprint, the storm was messing with her nerves. But the envelope vanishing? The way the cat looked at her? None of it fit into reason.

She backed toward her bedroom door, intent on locking herself in until daylight. But just as her hand touched the knob, a sound rooted her in place.

Purring.

Deep, steady, resonant. Too loud for a creature its size.

Selene turned, heart slamming against her ribs. The cat was no longer on the couch.

It was sitting by the window.

Watching the storm. Watching her.

And in the glass's reflection, Selene swore she saw a second figure standing behind it just for a flicker, gone when she blinked.

She stumbled into her room and slammed the door shut.

The note slipped from her hand.

DON'T TRUST THE CAT

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