Chapter 27
Her
I step out of the office building and the heavy tension from inside follows me like a dark cloud that will not go away. It has been a few days since that anonymous email about Mike arrived, and everything still feels wrong.
The police have already come to the newsroom twice. They asked everyone questions, including me, about the article, the video, and whether Mike had any enemies or acted strange lately. Every time I walk past his empty desk, my stomach twists into a tight knot.
The air in the office feels thick and heavy, like something rotten is stuck there.
People whisper in corners, and every look from a colleague seems to carry suspicion.
I keep replaying the officers’ questions in my head, wondering if they think I know more than I am saying.
It makes it almost impossible to focus on my work.
My phone rings just as I reach the pavement. Maddie’s name flashes on the screen, and I answer immediately. "Hey, Mads."
"Ree." Her voice is soft, worried. "Are you okay?"
I exhale slowly. "I’m… trying."
"I figured." A pause. "I’ve been thinking about you all day."
I swallow, blinking fast. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Listen… want to meet near the old bridge café? We could grab something warm. Talk for a bit? I miss you."
My chest tightens, but this time it’s not from the spiral. "You always know when I need saving."
She huffs lightly. "Please. You’re predictable when you’re spiraling."
A weak laugh slips out of me. "Rude. But accurate."
"So you’re coming?"
"Already on my way."
"Good. Hurry before I order your drink wrong on purpose."
"You wouldn’t dare."
"Try me."
I smile for real this time. "See you soon, Mads."
"See you, Ree."
Twenty minutes later, I spot Maddie waiting outside the café, shifting her weight from foot to foot like she’s been scanning the street for me.
The moment her eyes land on me, her face softens with relief. She rushes forward and pulls me into a tight hug. "Ree… you look exhausted."
Her voice is gentle, but there’s worry tucked beneath it. I sink into her arms before I can stop myself, breathing in her familiar vanilla perfume. Some of the tension in my shoulders loosens.
"That obvious?" I murmur.
"Very." She pulls back just enough to look at me properly, her brows knitting. "Come on. Sit. I already ordered your drink."
I blink. "You didn’t."
"Hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows." She gives a small smile. "Obviously."
Warmth flickers faintly in my chest. "You’re actually my favorite person."
"I know." She says lightly, bumping her shoulder into mine. "Now tell me what’s going on. Your voice earlier sounded like you hadn’t slept in a year."
Inside, we take a table by the window. The café smells like cinnamon and roasted coffee beans, soft music drifting through the air. It should feel comforting. Safe. Normal. It doesn’t.
I wrap both hands around the mug when it arrives, soaking in its warmth like I can absorb calm through my skin.
"The office has been… bad."
Maddie’s posture straightens instantly. "Because of the email?"
I nod, staring into the chocolate instead of at her. "Police everywhere. People whispering again. It’s worse than before."
Her voice lowers. "Worse how?"
I swallow. "Like I can’t escape it. Not there. Not anywhere."
She leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on me with quiet urgency. "Ree… how are you actually holding up?"
The question presses against something fragile inside my chest.
"I’m trying." I admit softly. "But it’s a lot. The rumors coming back. The video. The stalker…"
Her fingers slide across the table and curl around mine, grounding, steady. "God." She whispers.
I tighten my grip on the mug. "The police asked if I knew anything about Mike’s past."
"Did you?"
"No. But…" My throat dries. "That iris flower in the email."
Her eyes sharpen.
"It’s the same one from the alley." The memory makes my stomach twist. "What if it’s the same person, Mads? What if the stalker is behind all of it?"
A beat of silence stretches between us.
My voice drops before I can stop it. "What if he’s watching me right now?"
Her grip tightens immediately. "Hey. Hey." Her tone turns soft but firm. "You’re not alone. I’m right here."
I nod, even though the unease doesn’t fade. It lingers like a shadow just outside the light.
"Did you tell Dr. Nathaniel everything?" She asks gently.
"Yeah. Saw him just the day before yesterday."
"Did it help?"
"For a minute." I give a small shrug. "He showed me few exercises. They calm me down when it spikes."
"And the rest of the time?"
I stare at the steam curling from my cup. "The fear just waits."
Her expression softens even more, like she’s trying to hold me together with nothing but concern. Then suddenly she smiles.
"Okay. New rule."
I glance up confused. "What rule?"
"We’re not letting fear steal today."
A weak huff escapes me. "That’s optimistic."
"Nope. Strategic." She leans back, eyes glinting. "Remember Al’s sculpture phase?"
I groan instantly. "No."
"He tried to sculpt your face."
Despite myself, a laugh slips out. The sound surprises me. "It looked like a potato."
"A lumpy potato." She corrects, delighted. "With eyes."
"He still insists it was abstract. Said one day it’ll sell for millions."
I shake my head, laughing. "If that thing ever makes money, I’m suing."
"There she is." Maddie says softly.
I blink. "What?"
"That laugh. I’ve missed it."
Something warm spreads through my chest, fragile but real.
"You’re stronger than you think, Ree. You’ll get through this. I promise."
By the time we step outside, the sky has turned a deep indigo. The world feels… lighter. Not safe. Not normal. But lighter.
"Thanks for today." I say quietly. "I needed this more than you know."
She pulls me into one last hug, warm and tight. "Anytime."
When she lets go, she points at me sternly. "Text me the second you get home."
I salute lazily. "Yes, ma’am."
"I’m serious."
"I know."
Her expression softens again. "Good. Now go before I follow you home like a bodyguard."
I smile, a real one this time, and turn toward the street, carrying a small piece of her warmth with me.
I choose the alley because it is faster, and I want to reach home before it gets completely dark. The moment I step into it, I regret the decision. The narrow passage smells of damp concrete, stale alcohol, and old garbage that has been sitting too long in the corners.
A weak streetlight flickers overhead, buzzing softly, its pale glow barely touching the ground.
Shadows cling to the walls like stains, stretching long and thin across the pavement.
My footsteps echo louder than they should, the sound bouncing off the brick and making the alley feel even emptier than it already is.
I walk faster, hugging my coat tighter around myself.
Every small noise suddenly feels amplified, the crunch of something brittle under my shoe, the faint drip of water from a pipe somewhere above, the distant hum of traffic from the main road.
My pulse begins to quicken for no clear reason except the growing feeling that I should not be here.
Then laughter breaks the silence. It is low, uneven, and thick with alcohol. My stomach drops as shapes begin to separate from the darkness ahead.
One man steps forward, then another, and another, until there are seven or eight of them spreading out slowly, forming a loose circle. Their movements are unsteady but deliberate, like they have all the time in the world.
The smell hits me before they even speak, sharp liquor, sweat, and smoke clinging to their clothes. One of them grins, showing stained teeth, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Well, look what wandered in." He says, his words slurred but amused.
I instinctively step back, but another figure shifts behind me, blocking the path I came from. My chest tightens instantly. I glance around, searching for a gap, a space, any opening, but there isn’t one. They are already too close.
A rough hand clamps around my wrist. I gasp and try to pull away, but his grip tightens, fingers digging painfully into my skin. Panic sparks through me like electricity.
"Let me go." I say, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it. "Please. Just leave me alone."
They laugh. The sound is ugly and thick, hanging in the air like smoke.
Another man reaches out and brushes his hand along my shoulder, his touch slow and deliberate, as if he is testing how far he can go. My heart slams harder, each beat pounding against my ribs so violently I can feel it in my throat.
"Relax." One of them mutters. "We just want to talk."
I try to twist free again, but the man holding me yanks me closer instead, making me stumble. A different hand reaches for the collar of my coat, fingers grazing the side of my neck. Tears sting my eyes, hot and humiliating, but fear burns hotter.
"I said let go!" My voice cracks, rising helplessly. "Someone help me!"
For a brief second, nothing happens. Then the sound of a motorcycle engine cuts through the alley.
It starts as a distant growl, low and faint, but it grows quickly, louder, deeper, closer, until the vibration seems to travel through the pavement and into my bones.
The men hesitate, their laughter faltering as bright headlights suddenly burst into view at the far end of the alley. The light is blinding against the darkness, swallowing the shadows as it rushes toward us.
The bike stops only a few feet away with a deep, controlled rumble.
The rider sits still for a moment, engine idling steadily. Then he removes his helmet. It’s Dr. Nathaniel.
His expression is not angry. Not rushed. Not panicked. It is calm. Cold. Controlled.
His eyes move slowly over the men surrounding me, and something in his gaze shifts the air itself, like pressure dropping before a storm. He does not raise his voice when he speaks.
"Get on the bike, Iris."
There is no urgency in his tone, no visible tension, just quiet authority that leaves no room for hesitation.