I swing my legs off the bed and stretch, ignoring my mother hovering with breakfast.
"I can get my own food," I snap, though not meanly. More sarcastically, letting her know I'm capable of more than she thinks. She flinches, but doesn't argue.
Good. That's settled.
I grab my phone and scroll, hoping for something normal, something mundane. Maybe a message from a friend or a notification about the new coffee place downtown. Nothing.
Then a ping.
Unknown number.
Stop thinking you're safe. I'm watching.
My heart does a little flip. And then I laugh. Nervous, maybe, but I laugh.
"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter. "A mysterious stranger sliding into my life with ominous warnings. Classic."
I type back before I even think. Oh really? Are you my Uber or something? Because if you are, I'm expecting complimentary snacks.
No reply.
I roll my eyes and toss the phone onto the bed. My mother glances at me like I've lost it. "What was that?"
"Nothing," I say sweetly, my best fake smile. "Just… talking to my secret admirer."
She frowns. I laugh quietly to myself. Secret admirer doesn't even begin to cover it. More like… protector, watcher, maybe even potentially dangerous man I've never met who saved my life. But where's the fun in telling her that?
Another ping.
You're funny. Not safe to laugh yet.
I freeze, staring at the screen. My fingers hover over the keyboard. I know I shouldn't reply, but curiosity is a stronger drug than fear.
Oh, I'm shaking in my hospital socks.
Don't underestimate me. Or you.
I smirk. Okay, now we're playing a game. I like games. Especially when I have a fighting chance.
Well, mysterious guy, what are the rules? Are we texting until I accidentally give away my address or until you finally reveal who you are?
The reply comes almost instantly.
Rules are simple. You stay alive. Everything else, we'll see.
I lean back on the bed and laugh quietly. "Alright," I murmur. "You're either a hero or a creep. One way or another, this is going to be interesting."
It feels… thrilling. Dangerous. I know I shouldn't enjoy this, shouldn't flirt with a stranger who could disappear at any moment, or worse, be someone I shouldn't trust. And yet, I do.
Hours pass. The nurses check in. My mother fusses. But my phone stays alive with small messages. Warnings, observations, half-jokes. We don't share names. We don't share faces. And I like it that way.
I'm aware of the thrill coursing through me. A slow burn that could ignite at any second. I can almost feel him in the city, moving, observing, protecting. The power he wields, the mystery surrounding him, it's intoxicating.
I lie back, phone in hand, grinning like an idiot. "So this is what danger feels like," I whisper. "Flirtatious and terrifying."
And I know, somewhere in the shadows of the city, he reads the same words and smiles, watching, waiting.
The game has begun.