The city's restless glow flickered against the windshield as Elle leaned back in her seat, her sharp grey eyes watching the night roll by like a movie reel she'd seen one too many times. The holidays had drained the usual energy from her college campus, leaving behind an eerie stillness—an emptiness she could never quite welcome. The world had quieted, but Elle Deveraux was anything but at peace.
For days now, she had felt the burn of someone watching her. A presence—subtle, patient, and persistent. The same black car with tinted glass, always a few paces behind. Not enough to make a scene. Not enough to draw suspicion from anyone else. But Elle had learned long ago to trust the instincts that whispered when danger was near.
Tonight, she had made a decision.
"Take the long way through the market district," Elle said, her voice low but resolute. She didn't look away from the passing streetlights.
Edric, her ever-composed butler, gave a small nod from behind the wheel. "Yes, Miss Elle."
Behind them sat Bryce, her personal bodyguard, silent as always. Even now, he wore his signature black sunglasses despite the hour. His left hand rested casually on the handle of the concealed firearm beneath his coat. Every inch of him radiated quiet alertness. The man hardly blinked.
Elle didn't need to explain. Edric knew. Bryce knew. They all knew. She was baiting the stalker.
The streets were alive in a different way tonight. Neon signs buzzed like insects in the warm air. Stray vendors hawked sweets and incense under swaying bulbs. And Elle's car, sleek and obsidian, slid through the chaos like a shadow. It wasn't long before the presence returned. The black car. Same model. Same distance. Its windows dark, its movements precise.
"There it is," Elle murmured, tapping her fingers against her knee. "Been with us since we left the estate."
Edric's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. "We're being watched."
Elle's lips curled into something cold and deliberate. "Good. Let's take them for a ride."
With a subtle flick of his wrist, Edric veered off the main road. The route they followed now snaked through less familiar territory—toward Elle's secondary estate, nestled at the edge of Blackthorn Forest. A property barely anyone knew she owned. A house swallowed in silence and surrounded by trees that whispered old secrets to the wind.
The sky above stretched wide and endless, a velvet expanse littered with stars. But it was the moon that ruled the night—a glowing orb of silver, full and low, casting elongated shadows across the road. The kind of moon that made people believe in fate.
Elle rolled her window down, letting the night air kiss her cheek. It was cooler here, far from the warmth of the city's neon belly. She tilted her head back, her gaze lifting to the sky.
The moon was so close it felt like she could touch it.
No one knew—not Edric, not even Martha—that as a child, she used to whisper to the moon. Lying on her bed, tangled in sheets too large for her tiny frame, she'd stare out of her window and tell the moon everything she couldn't tell a soul. About her fears. Her grief. Her loneliness.
She had believed, truly, that it listened.
Still do, she thought, despite herself.
As if the moon remembered it all. Every word. Every loss. Every quiet, trembling confession.
Her gaze softened, just for a moment.
Then Edric's voice cut through the reverie. "Miss Elle, they're still behind us. Every turn. Every exit. They didn't break pattern."
"Then they've taken the bait," she said, voice sharper now. "Keep heading toward the old estate. There's a dead-end just before the gate. We'll corner them there."
The deeper they drove, the more the city melted behind them, swallowed by the dark. The streetlights grew rare. Civilization faded. The only sounds were the distant rustling of trees and the steady hum of tires beneath them.
Elle sat up straighter. Only two vehicles remained on this forgotten road—hers and the stalker's.
The forest closed in around them, thick and ominous. Shadows moved in the branches. The moon followed above, silver and constant.
Suddenly, Edric yanked the wheel.
The car veered sharply left, nearly skidding as it cut through the curve.
Then—without warning—he spun into a full U-turn.
Elle braced herself, heart hammering now. "Do it now. Ambush."
Bryce was already in motion, hand on his weapon, waiting for the signal.
But the stalker anticipated it.
The black car behind them shrieked as it swerved, tires screaming against the pavement. With a violent burst of speed, it veered off into a side path—one barely wide enough for a car to pass. Gravel exploded behind it in a cloud of dust.
"They knew," Edric muttered, knuckles white on the wheel.
Elle's eyes narrowed. "They knew the route. They were waiting for that turn."
Before the dust could settle, Edric slammed the accelerator.
The chase resumed.
Trees flashed by in streaks. The moon above flashed through branches, turning everything into flickering shadows. The black car sped ahead, weaving through the narrow road with terrifying skill.
"They're leading us somewhere," Bryce said, voice flat. "This isn't panic. It's precision."
Elle didn't speak. She was watching. Calculating. Feeling.
The path opened suddenly into an empty four-lane road. And there—like a phantom rising from the mist—stood the city's largest parking structure. An enormous concrete labyrinth, multi-tiered, dimly lit, and silent.
The stalker's car shot into the entrance and disappeared up the spiral ramp.
Edric made to follow—but Elle raised her hand.
"Don't follow them inside," she said sharply.
He hesitated. "Miss Elle—"
"There'll be hundreds of cars inside. All dark. All identical. We'll lose them the second we enter. The registration gate will stall us. And even if we get in, they'll vanish. You know they will."
Edric exhaled slowly, easing the brake.
The moment passed. Silence took over the car like fog.
Inside, the structure stood still. No movement. No sound.
Only shadows.
"They planned this," Elle whispered. "They knew we'd follow."
For a second, her chest tightened. Not from fear—but from something far colder.
Frustration.
She hated being outplayed.
Her hands curled into fists in her lap, knuckles pressing white beneath the leather of her gloves. She stared at the ramp where the black car had disappeared.
Her voice, when it came, was calm again.
"Let them go."
Edric didn't argue. He turned the car slowly around and began the drive back toward the city.
"But this isn't over," Elle said softly, her eyes on the silver-lit horizon.
The moon, her silent witness, hung above it all. Watching.
Waiting.
And remembering.