I stared at the photo on Nia's phone.
It was me.
Sitting exactly where I was right now.
Same hoodie. Same posture.
Taken just minutes ago from the window behind me.
I spun around outside nothing.
Just the empty rooftop across from us. The bookstore alley below.
The dim flicker of a streetlamp.
No faces. No figures.
But someone had been there.
Watching….close,quiet and bold enough to let me know.
Nia locked the window and dimmed the lights in her apartment.
"Pack your things," she said. "You're not sleeping here again."
Her tone was calm, but the muscles in her jaw twitched.
"We need to move and now."
I didn't ask where, I just obeyed.
It felt like the walls were listening.
We drove in silence for twenty minutes until we reached a gated townhouse on the edge of town.
Private. Guarded. Quiet.
Inside, it felt sterile too clean, too empty. But safe.
Nia checked all the cameras. There were six.
Motion-activated,night vision.
Live-feed access.
"Stay here," she said. "Don't leave without me."
"What about class?"
"Forget class.This isn't about missing a lecture anymore. This is survival."
I nodded, even though my stomach twisted.
All while I was trying to sleep it seemed like I was having a revelation.
I wasn't just a girl fighting for her voice anymore.
I was a target.
It was one of the nights I couldn't sleep.
I kept thinking about the photo. About Amy. About the paper in the locker. About the way Michael's smirk haunted every second of silence.
And about one thing Nia had said that I couldn't shake:
"Michael has help, someone close."
How close?
Close enough to see inside a window on the third floor and send a photo moments later.
Close enough to walk campus unnoticed.
To plant notes in my locker.
To disappear… and reappear.
Then it hit me.
Someone had access to my dorm. Someone I hadn't even considered.
I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my laptop, and logged into the university's visitor entry logs. It wasn't public info but I'd helped an IT guy once with his girlfriend drama, and he'd owed me a favor.
I entered my dorm block ID. Then I scrolled through the last three weeks.
Most names were familiar roommates' friends, delivery staff.
But one name made me freeze.
Daniel Cooper.
I hadn't seen that name in years.
He was a guy from my first year.
Quiet.
Nerdy.
Obsessed with tech.
We'd done a group project together once and I'd barely spoken to him since.
Why was he in my dorm two weeks ago?
Three times.
All logged late at night.
That night, I got a text from an unknown number.
"Tell Nia to stop digging. Or this time, it's her funeral."
Attached?
A photo of Nia's little sister, getting into her car at her school that same morning.
They weren't just watching us now.
They were hunting the people we loved.
I called Nia.
She picked up instantly.
"I think I know who might be helping him."
I told her about Daniel.
She went silent.
"Send me everything," she said. "Full name. Any socials. Screenshots."
I did.
Two hours later, she called back.
"He's more than Michael's friend. They went to high school together. Got arrested once for online fraud. Charges dropped."
My jaw tightened. "No wonder he knows how to cover tracks."
"Daniel's not just helping Michael. He's the one running his digital games."
"What does that mean?"
"It means every fake account, every leak, every tracker they're probably Daniel's work. Michael's just the face."
A chill ran down my spine.
"So Daniel is the one watching me?"
"Not just watching," she said. "He's playing God."
The next day, I woke up to a crashing sound.
Glass.
Somewhere inside the house.
I froze.
Then heard the second sound.
Footsteps.
I grabbed my phone, heart hammering, and dialed Nia.
No answer.
The footsteps got closer.
I crept into the kitchen and grabbed the only weapon I could find…a cast-iron pan.
My breath was shallow.
Then… a voice.
Low. Male.
"We told you to back off."
It wasn't Michael.
It wasn't Daniel.
Someone else.
A shadow flickered across the hallway.
Then..
"Police! Put your hands up!"
Red and blue lights exploded through the windows.
The man tried to run, but was tackled just outside the back door.
Two officers dragged him away while one stayed with me.
My body wouldn't stop shaking.
He wasn't holding a weapon, just a burner phone. But on the screen was a photo…
Of my dead father's obituary.
My knees buckled.
This wasn't just a threat.
They were going after my past.
My pain.
My roots.
Nia arrived ten minutes later, breathless.
"They moved faster than we thought," she said. "But that confirms it. This isn't random harassment."
She opened her laptop and showed me a folder labeled "Project Obey."
"What's that?"
"A pattern," she said. "Same tactics. Same language. Three other girls across the state. All emotionally manipulated, stalked, digitally violated. All connected to Michael and Daniel."
My chest tightened. "And no one stopped them?"
"No one believed them."
I stared at the screen. Girls with different faces. Different names. But the same fear in their eyes.
"How did you find this?"
She looked at me.
"Because I was one of them," she said.
I froze.
"I was their first test," Nia whispered. "Two years ago. I lost everything. But I swore no other girl would go down quietly again."