Elara
The message haunted her.
Just a single dot.
No words.
No context.
But it made her skin crawl.
She told herself it was a mistake. A wrong number.
But when she checked the lock on her door—twice—her hands still shook.
---
The next morning, the city felt off. Like something was trailing behind her that she couldn't see.
At the diner, Jenna noticed immediately.
"You've got that look again," she said, sliding into the booth across from her. "Like a haunted doll in a thrift store."
Elara gave a weak laugh. "It's nothing."
Jenna leaned forward, voice low. "It's not nothing if you're checking over your shoulder every five minutes. Did someone say something? Do something?"
Elara hesitated, then pulled out her phone and showed her the message.
Jenna stared at it. "...Creepy as hell."
"I blocked the number," Elara said, though it felt like lying to herself. "It hasn't happened again."
Jenna's voice hardened. "If it does—you tell me. I mean it."
---
Aiden
She showed her friend the message.
He watched from the window of the bookstore across the street, hidden behind a shelf of old poetry.
It wasn't the reaction he expected.
He thought it would stir her curiosity. A question.
Instead—it brought fear.
He didn't like that.
Fear was too sharp, too early.
He wanted to be a whisper first. A chill. A need.
He needed to slow down.
Aiden pocketed the second burner phone and walked out calmly, blending into the crowd. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
---
That evening, Elara walked home with Jenna. The sky was painted red—one of those sunsets that felt too loud to be peaceful.
"I'll come in for a bit," Jenna said, ever the protector.
But Elara shook her head. "I'll be okay. I need to clear my head."
Jenna hesitated, then nodded. "You call me if anything feels wrong. Anything."
Elara promised.
---
Aiden
He followed them at a distance, slipping between alleys like a shadow. His footfalls silent, his eyes never leaving Elara.
He didn't like the other girl's closeness—her suspicion.
But he admired her, too.
She loved Elara the way a sister might. Fiercely. Unapologetically.
It made her dangerous.
He'd have to be careful.
But Elara—Elara was opening.
She was beginning to sense him.
That made his pulse stir in a way no deal, no weapon, no blood-soaked job ever had.
He wasn't just watching now.
He was getting closer.