Sophie barely slept.

Every creak of the old pipes, every hiss of the radiator had jolted her awake. She had spent the night curled on the couch, the stranger’s phone clutched in her hand like it was both her shield and her curse.

Morning light spilled weakly through her curtains, but it brought no comfort. Her apartment, once her tiny safe haven, now felt like a trap.

By the time her alarm rang, she was already wide awake, her head heavy, her eyes sore. She switched it off and sat in silence, debating.

Go to work. Pretend life was normal. Or… start demanding answers.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly. She thought of the knock at her door, the footsteps retreating, the warning message.

Something inside her hardened. She wasn’t just going to sit here waiting to be hunted. Not anymore.

---

At the bookstore, Sophie tried to focus on work. The bell above the door jingled with every customer, each sound stabbing at her nerves. She stacked books with robotic precision, pasted on a smile at the counter, but her eyes kept darting toward the glass storefront.

Mia texted around noon: You’re scaring me. Please come stay with me tonight.

Sophie’s thumb hovered, but she didn’t reply.

Instead, she slipped into the storeroom during her break and pulled out the phone.

Her fingers flew.

Sophie: I need to know who you are. I can’t keep living like this.

The reply came almost instantly.

“I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

Her jaw clenched. She typed harder.

Sophie: Then tell me what you’ve dragged me into. Who’s chasing you? Why did they come to my door?

Dots blinked. Disappeared. Blinked again.

Finally: “If I tell you, you won’t be safe.”

Sophie let out a sharp, bitter laugh, startling herself. She typed furiously.

Sophie: I’m already not safe.

This time, the reply took longer. When it came, it made her blood run cold.

“Then maybe it’s time you chose a side.”

Her throat closed. Chose a side? Against who? For what?

Before she could respond, the door to the storeroom banged open.

“Sophie? You okay back here?” It was Claire, her manager.

Sophie fumbled to hide the phone. “Y-yeah! Just—inventory.”

Claire frowned but didn’t push. She left, the door swinging shut again.

Sophie stared at the phone, her hands trembling.

Choose a side.

She didn’t even know the game.

---

That evening, Sophie walked home in the drizzle, clutching her umbrella close. The city glistened with wet neon, headlights slicing through the mist. She kept glancing over her shoulder, every stranger’s gaze making her skin prickle.

When she reached her building, she hesitated. The hallway where someone had knocked last night stretched before her, silent now. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to climb the stairs.

Inside, she double-locked the door and leaned against it, chest heaving.

Her phone buzzed.

Not her own. The stranger’s.

“There’s something you need to see. Check the Notes app.”

Her pulse skipped. She fumbled to unlock it, opened the Notes app.

There was only one file, titled simply: “If Found.”

Her finger hovered, hesitant, before she tapped.

The note was short. Only a name and an address.

Adrian Cross.

Pier 17, Warehouse C.

Sophie whispered the name under her breath, tasting it, testing it. Adrian Cross. Finally, a crack in the mystery.

Her mind spun. She should delete it. She should ignore it, drop the phone off at the police station and walk away.

But her heart thudded with something dangerously close to excitement.

For the first time, she had more than just shadows and warnings. She had a direction.

---

She didn’t tell Mia. She didn’t tell anyone.

The next night, Sophie found herself standing at the edge of the docks, the city skyline a jagged crown of light behind her. The air smelled of salt and rust, thick with the hum of generators and the distant churn of waves.

Pier 17 loomed before her, its warehouses hulking and silent like sleeping beasts.

Her breath fogged in the cold night. Her fingers clutched the phone in her pocket, slick with sweat despite the chill.

“This is insane,” she whispered to herself. She should turn back. She should run home.

But her feet carried her forward.

Warehouse C.

The metal siding was streaked with rust, its massive door chained shut. Sophie’s pulse pounded as she circled the side, her shoes crunching on gravel. She found a smaller service door. To her shock, it wasn’t locked.

Her hand shook as she pushed it open.

The smell hit her first—oil, dust, damp wood.

Inside, the warehouse stretched cavernous and dark. Beams of moonlight sliced through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating stacks of crates.

She stepped inside, every sound magnified: the drip of water, the scrape of her shoes.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She nearly screamed.

Pulling it out with trembling hands, she saw the message.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Her stomach dropped.

Her breath came in ragged bursts as she typed back.

Sophie: You gave me this address.

Dots flickered.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go.”

Her knees wobbled. She glanced around the empty warehouse. Or maybe not empty.

Sophie: Adrian Cross. That’s you, isn’t it?

This time, there was no reply.

Instead, a sound echoed through the darkness.

Footsteps.

Slow. Heavy.

Sophie’s chest seized. She stumbled back toward the door, but her foot caught on a loose chain. She fell hard, palms stinging.

The footsteps grew louder. Closer.

She scrambled up, heart in her throat.

“Hello?” she choked out.

No answer. Just shadows shifting in the far corner.

She lifted her phone, the weak glow of the screen casting a pale circle of light.

And that’s when she saw him.

A figure stepped into the light. Tall, broad-shouldered, his face hidden in shadow.

Her breath froze.

The phone buzzed in her hand.

She looked down.

“Run.”

Her head snapped up. The man was still there, watching.

Her legs finally obeyed. She bolted for the door, her lungs burning, her pulse roaring in her ears. She burst into the cold night air, sprinting across the gravel until her chest ached.

Only when she reached the main road did she dare to glance back.

The warehouse door stood ajar, the shadows swallowing the figure whole.

Her phone buzzed again.

“I told you it wasn’t safe.”

Sophie doubled over, clutching her knees, gasping for air.

Her mind screamed at her to walk away, to forget the name, the warehouse, the man in the shadows.

But her heart whispered something else.

For the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.