Chapter 1 #2
She wasn’t ready for everything to come to an end. There was still so much she had to do, so many places she wanted to see. She wanted to get married, to have a family one day.
“Not these. Not tonight.” The man placed the tools back into the bag one by one, slow and deliberate.
“Tonight is about learning you. Understanding you. Hearing you breathe. Hearing how you try not to cry. It’s all really quite satisfying.
Some people in my shoes . . . they move too quickly. That takes away so much joy.”
She bit her lip until she tasted copper. Please, Lord . . . help me!
She hadn’t prayed in years. She didn’t even know if she believed in God. But she felt powerless to do anything but pray right now.
“Such control. I admire that. I crave it.” He moved closer to her ear and lowered his voice. “I need to know what breaks you, Gina.”
She trembled, the shivers uncontrollable.
“And soon,” he added, his breath warm on her ear, “I’ll find out. Now, here’s what’s going to happen . . .”
Gina closed her eyes again, the pounding in her head growing stronger because of the bright light. Because of the fear.
“I’m going to cut off your zip ties and leave you here,” he murmured. “You’re going to count to one thousand—out loud, so I can hear you. If you stop counting, if you call out, if you move even an inch, I’ll know. And I’ll come back. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He leaned closer, the light still shining in her eyes, and pulled out a knife.
Her throat went dry when she saw the blade.
Then he sliced through the plastic at her wrists and ankles.
She released the breath she’d been holding.
He remained leaning toward her as he said, “I’m always watching, Gina.
Even when you can’t see me. Even when you think you’re safe.
I live in the spaces between your heartbeats, in the shadows you’re afraid to check.
And one day when you least expect it, I’ll come back to finish what we started tonight. ”
Then he moved toward the door, his footsteps heavy.
Was he . . . leaving? Really?
What sense did that make?
Yet, she wasn’t complaining.
Maybe this nightmare was over.
But that seemed too easy.
No—something told her this nightmare was just beginning.
He paused. “Start counting.”
“One,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Two. Three . . .”
The door opened.
By the time Gina reached fifty, she thought the man—the monster—might be gone.
By one hundred, she was almost certain.
Despite that, she kept counting, her voice growing hoarse.
Because somewhere in the darkness—maybe outside her window, maybe in the hallway, maybe nowhere and everywhere at once—he might still be listening.
She didn’t stop until she reached a thousand.
Then, just to be safe, she counted to a thousand again.
The reality of what had just happened hit her.
Nausea boiled up inside her, and she threw up.
The building where Morrison, Blake, and Associates was housed rose in the San Francisco skyline like a glass and steel monument to corporate ambition.
Gina had always found the structure imposing, but tonight it felt more like a fortress—one of the few places where she felt halfway safe.
She’d been working late, burying herself in contract reviews and depositions—doing anything to keep her mind occupied.
Two days had passed since the intruder had broken into her home.
Two days since she’d woken up to that scraping sound, to the bright light in her face, to a stranger’s breath against her ear and his voice rasping darkness into her bones.
Her apartment somehow felt contaminated now, despite the fact she’d had the locks changed and a security system installed. She’d also gotten a new phone and vowed to never hesitate before calling 911 again.
After the man had left, she’d rushed to check on Emily.
Her roommate had been sleeping like a baby.
Then Gina had used Emily’s phone to call the police. Two cops had come but had found no evidence of forced entry, no fingerprints, no DNA.
There had been zip ties left as evidence, but they were the same kind Gina had in her junk drawer. They offered no clues.
None of her neighbors had seen or heard anything.
Her attacker had been a ghost, there and gone without a trace.
The detective assigned to her case had ultimately been unhelpful. He’d said most likely it was a burglar who’d been scared off or someone with mental health issues who’d gotten confused.
Neither she nor Emily bought those theories. Despite the new security measures, they’d both decided to stay somewhere else—for a little while, at least. Emily was staying with one of her coworkers from the library, and Gina was staying at her sister’s place.
She glanced at the clock. 8:47 p.m.
It was time to leave.
Gina packed her briefcase with tomorrow’s files.
Most of the office had cleared out hours ago, leaving only the security guards downstairs and the cleaning crew working their way up from the lower floors.
She was supposed to text her ex-boyfriend Colin when she was ready to leave so he could walk her out. He’d insisted—some combination of lingering guilt, leftover affection, and his tendency to want control even after the breakup.
But tonight he hadn’t responded to her last message from twenty minutes ago.
Typical.
She supposed she could call one of the security guards to walk her down. But she hated it when people made a big deal out of her. She’d never liked attention.
She should be fine walking to her car alone. This whole building was secure—even the parking garage.
She couldn’t live in this fear forever.
Swallowing her apprehension, she climbed into the elevator and took it down to the parking garage.
For some reason, the ride felt longer than usual.
When the doors slid open, she stepped into the cool concrete cavern of the garage.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh, flickering shadows across the floor.
Her car—a sensible Honda Civic that Colin had always mocked as boring—sat exactly where she’d left it. A handful of other vehicles dotted the space—most likely security and custodial workers.
Still, her heart gave a small, irrational kick.
The shadows between the concrete pillars seemed deeper tonight. Thicker.
Everything is fine. Don’t let fear control you. Then that man will win.
She had to constantly remind herself of those things—every hour of every day since the break-in.
Her heels echoed across the garage as she hurried to her car. She was fumbling with her keys when her phone rang.
She jumped, her keys slipping from her hands and clattering as they hit the concrete.
She grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen.
Unknown number.
That wasn’t unusual. Clients sometimes called from private lines, and Gina had learned to answer regardless of the hour, especially when deadlines and big cases were looming.
She grabbed her keys, unlocked her car, slid into the driver’s seat, and locked the doors quickly before answering. “Gina James.”
A breath sounded. Then—“Hello, Gina.”
She flinched.
The air stalled in her chest, and her fingers curled into her palms as the voice echoed in her ears.
Deep. Gravelly.
Unmistakable.
Her fingers went numb. The phone almost slipped from her grasp.
It was him.
Despite knowing, she still asked, “Who is this?”
Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her—
“I think you know who this is.”
She did. God help her, she did.
It was that man.
The man who’d broken into her apartment.
The man who’d tied her up and studied her in the dark like he was memorizing her.
The man who had said he’d been watching her.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued.
She scanned the garage, her breath shallow.
The shadows between the pillars suddenly felt alive and threatening. Each vehicle was a potential hiding spot. And the darkness surrounding the garage felt like an omen that something bad was about to happen.
Was he here? Was this man watching her now? Had he somehow bypassed security?
“Why are you telling me this?” Her voice was barely a whisper as she gripped the phone so hard her knuckles ached.
“I’m giving you a chance to run while you can. Leave now. Tonight. Because I can’t control myself anymore, and I’m coming after you.”
She froze with uncertainty.
What had he just said? Had she misunderstood?
“What do you mean?” The question slipped out.
“You know what I mean. I think you deserve a fighting chance. Good luck.”
The line went dead.
Gina’s breath hitched, and her blood turned to ice.
He was here.
In the garage with her.
She had to get away.
She jammed her key into the ignition and twisted.
She heard a click.
But nothing happened.
Her car was dead.
And she knew that wasn’t a coincidence.
He wasn’t giving her a chance.
He’d been toying with her.