Chapter 11
Shadows Lurk
Julia's POV
The moment Logan walks out my front door, a sharp unease slithers through me. I shiver and tell myself it’s just the cold night air creeping in, but deep down, I know better.
The danger isn’t just some distant possibility anymore—it’s here. Watching. Waiting.
It’s been hours since Logan rushed out after receiving that call from the station. The quiet of the house no longer feels like a sanctuary, but a trap, the walls pressing in, suffocating.
I clutch my phone in my palm, contemplating calling him back, but what would I say? That I’m unraveling? That I can’t breathe because every shadow feels like it’s reaching for me?
I sit curled on the couch, sipping a cup of tea that’s long gone cold, my mind spinning through everything that’s happened in the last few days.
The threats. The warnings. I
grip the ceramic mug tighter, my pulse jumping at the sound of the wind rattling against the window. The rational part of me knows it’s just a gust, but my nerves are too frayed to tell the difference between reality and paranoia anymore.
I set the cup down and clutch my phone in my palm, contemplating calling him back, but what would I say? That I’m unraveling? That I can’t breathe because every shadow feels like it’s reaching for me?
I shake my head and force myself off the couch, pacing to the window. Peeling back the curtain, I scan the street outside.
Nothing.
Just the wind stirring the trees, the dim glow of the streetlamp pooling onto the pavement. But the feeling remains, a weight pressing against my chest.
The shadows creeping closer to a truth I’ve worked so hard to keep buried. I glance toward Lily’s room, hearing her stir, a faint murmur drifting through the hallway.
My body tenses, my maternal instincts on high alert. The faint glow of her night light spilling into the hallway does little to ease my mind. She’s safe. For now. But how long will that last?
I tiptoe toward her door, peering inside. She’s tangled in her blankets, peaceful, unaware of the turmoil circling us like a vulture waiting for its moment.
I run a shaky hand through my hair and sink onto the couch again, Logan’s words still ring in my ears. I’m getting you both out of here.
I know he means well. I know he’s doing everything in his power to keep us safe. But what if it’s not enough? What if Mac —or whoever’s pulling the strings—has already set things in motion that we can’t stop?
A knot tightens in my stomach. Logan suspects something. He knows I’m hiding something, but he doesn’t know the extent of it. He doesn’t know about Lily.
I should’ve told him the truth about Lily when I had the
chance. But there’s still time. I have to believe that.
I need to stop this. I need to take control. Tomorrow. First thing tomorrow, I’ll tell him the whole story.
The next morning, the studio is a flurry of movement. Students stretch and glide across the floor, their laughter bouncing off the mirrored walls.
But I’m distracted, each creak of the door making my pulse leap, each flicker of movement in the corner of my eye sending my stomach plummeting.
Every shadow in the corner of the room feels like it’s watching me.
My reflection in the mirror stares back at me —tired eyes, tight shoulders, the weight of too many secrets pressing down.
I can’t keep living like this.
Carla notices. Of course, she does.
“Jules, you’re wound tighter than a damn clock,” she mutters as she hands me a bottle of water after class. “You need to chill.”
“Gee, thanks.” I take a long sip, willing the cold liquid to ground me. “Just…a lot on my mind.” I’m fine.I force a smile. I’m fine. “I’m fine.”
“Liar.” She cocks her head. “Logan?’ Arches a brow.
I sigh, nodding. “And everything else.”
She doesn’t press me for details, but she gives me that look—the one that says she knows there’s more to the story. “You know I’ve got your back, right?” Carla says, squeezing my arm. “No matter what.”
I force a smile. “I know.”
Before she can respond, the front door swings open, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.
A man in a courier uniform steps inside, holding a package. “Package for Julia Thompson,” he says, holding out a small, nondescript box.
I frown. “That’s me, I didn’t order anything.”
He shrugs. “Just the messenger.”
He hands it over, tipping his cap. “Delivery for you.”
I take the box with a murmured thanks, my fingers tightening around the edges. Something about it feels…wrong.
My fingers tighten around the box as I stare at it, a cold, creeping sensation slipping under my skin. I don’t move.
Carla leans in. “Want me to open it?” I shake my head, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“I’ve got it.”
I set it on the counter and grab a pair of scissors. My hands tremble slightly as I cut the tape. My heart thuds in my ears as I lift the lid.
Inside is a single Polaroid.
My breath catches in my throat as I pull it out with trembling fingers.
It’s a picture of me. From this morning. Standing inside the studio, adjusting the stereo. My breath catches, my fingers go numb.
A cold shiver snakes down my spine.
Carla leans over my shoulder, her sharp inhale slicing through the moment. “What the actual hell?”
I flip the picture over. There’s a message scrawled in jagged handwriting.
Nice to see you again.
The world tilts for a moment, and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“Who the hell—?” Carla curses under her breath.
I don’t answer. I can’t. My mind is spinning, piecing together fragments of fear and memory.
Mac. It has to be him.
I fumble for my phone, my hands trembling, and dial Logan’s number. He answers immediately. “Julia?” His voice is sharp, alert. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I got a package at the studio. A picture. Of me. From this morning.”
Silence. A heavy, loaded silence.
“Lock the doors,” he orders. “I’m on my way.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Logan…” My voice breaks. “I think it’s him.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
The line goes dead.
By the time Logan arrives, I’ve locked every door and pulled the blinds. Carla stays by my side, arms crossed, jaw tight with fury.
Logan steps inside, eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing a threat. When his gaze lands on the Polaroid, his expression hardens into something lethal.
“Where’s the box?” he asks.
I hand it to him, my fingers still unsteady. He examines it, flipping it over. “No return address,” he mutters. “Of course not.”
Carla crosses her arms. “So what the hell does this mean? That some psycho is just walking around, snapping pictures of Julia for fun?”
Logan ignores her, turning to me instead. “We need to talk.”
He glances at Carla. “Can you give us a minute?”
She hesitates, then nods. “I’ll be in the office.”
Once we’re alone, Logan turns to me, his jaw tight. “You’re sure it’s Mac?”
I nod. “Who else would it be?”
His hand runs through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. “I don’t like this. He’s getting bolder.”
“I need to tell you something,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Logan’s gaze snaps to mine. “Tell me everything. Right now.”
I hesitate, my throat tightening. “I—I witnessed something. Years ago.”
His eyes narrow. “What kind of something?”
He stiffens. “I need to know what youre talking about. Now Julia!” I swallow hard, forcing myself to say the words. but I’ve always felt like he saw me, knew I was there.”
His entire body goes rigid, “What?”
I swallow hard. “Mac. I saw him torture someone. I ran. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that he didn’t see me, but I think he did. I think he’s always known.”
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t know if the guy lived or died, but Mac always made sure I knew what would happen if I ever crossed him.”
Logan’s expression darkens. “And you’re just telling me this now?”
“I didn’t think they’d ever find me, I thought I left it behind.” I admit. “But now…” I glance at the photo. “Now I’m not so sure. I think I was wrong.”
He steps closer, his presence grounding me. “We’ll figure this out. But you need to tell me everything.”
I nod. “I will.”
A knock at the door startles us both. Logan reacts instantly, hand going to his gun as he strides to the door, peering through the peephole.
His entire posture stiffens.
My heart slams against my ribs. Logan unlocks the door and cracks it open, blocking me from seeing. But when he shifts slightly, I catch a glimpse.
My blood runs cold.
Logan unlocks the door and pulls it open just enough to see outside.
And then, I see her.
Not Mac.
Someone worse.
My legs nearly buckle beneath me. My breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps as the past crashes into me, memories I’ve tried to bury clawing their way back up.
I thought I was safe.
I thought I’d escaped.
But her being here proves I was wrong.