Maya could barely contain her excitement.
Her fingers trembled as she held the phone to her ear, pacing beside her car. For once, her pulse raced with something other than fear—something sharper, intoxicating. Triumph.
"It's done," she breathed, gripping the door handle. "Eddie, it's done."
Laughter crackled through the speaker, low and knowing. "How did Sinclair take it?"
"Oh, I haven't seen him yet." She slid into the driver's seat, exhaling shakily. "Jackie was screaming, her mother was scrambling for excuses, but the second I pulled out the evidence—" A breathless laugh escaped her lips. "Game over."
Eddie chuckled. "That's my girl."
A warmth spread through her chest, unfamiliar but welcome. She rested her head against the steering wheel for a second, letting it sink in. For the first time in months, something felt right.
But then—
That feeling.
The one that crept under the skin, whispering, warning.
Maya stiffened.
The street stretched empty ahead, the air thick with leftover summer heat. Yet—
A pair of headlights glowed in her rearview mirror.
Her stomach tightened. A black car, parked a few spaces down. Too far to see the driver.
"Hold on," she muttered, sitting up.
Eddie picked up on the shift in her voice instantly. "What's wrong?"
She hesitated, watching the car. It didn't move. Didn't turn off its lights. Just sat there.
"…Nothing," she exhaled. "I'm just being paranoid."
Eddie didn't sound convinced. "You sure?"
Maya forced a smile into her voice. "Positive."
But as she pulled onto the road, as the city lights faded into darkened streets—
The black car followed.
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Every turn she took, every red light she stopped at—it stayed in her rearview mirror. Same distance. Never speeding up. Never slowing down. Just there.
Her pulse pounded.
Calm down. It's a coincidence.
She switched lanes.
So did the car.
Her breath hitched.
"Eddie," she murmured, forcing her voice to stay even. "That car. It's following me."
Instantly, his tone sharpened. "Where are you?"
"Heading to my grandmother's." She swallowed hard. "It's been behind me since I left."
"Alright—don't go straight home. Take a detour. See if they follow."
Maya's fingers trembled as she turned onto a side street.
The black car mirrored her movement.
Her stomach twisted.
"They're still here," she whispered.
Eddie cursed under his breath. "Okay. Stay calm. Are you close?"
"Five minutes out."
"Drive straight there. Don't stop for anything. I'm coming."
She pressed the gas pedal, hands slick with sweat. Streetlights blurred past as the night deepened. Shadows stretched long across the pavement.
The car never sped up. Never got too close.
Just followed.
By the time she reached her grandmother's neighborhood, her heart was hammering. She turned onto the familiar street, relief washing over her as the old house came into view.
But as she pulled into the driveway—
The car kept going.
Maya sat frozen, watching it disappear down the road, its taillights melting into the night.
Maybe it wasn't following me. Maybe I imagined it.
Still, unease coiled around her ribs as she stepped out of the car.
The air felt too still.
The kind of silence that didn't belong.
The front door was only a few feet away. Just a few steps—
That feeling struck again.
The undeniable, bone-deep sense of being watched.
Her throat tightened.
Slowly, carefully, she turned.
The street was empty. The night stretched quiet.
But somewhere, hidden in the dark—
Eyes.
Watching. Waiting.
A shadow moved near the curb.
Maya's breath caught.
Vic.
He stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes hollow beneath the streetlamp's glow. His hair was disheveled, shirt wrinkled—like he hadn't slept in days. Something about him was off. Too still. Too controlled. Like a wire pulled so tight it might snap at any moment.
"Maya," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. But it sliced through the night like a blade.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. "What do you want?"
A slow step forward. "To talk."
"No."
Another step.
"Maya, please." His voice cracked, desperate—but there was something in it that made her skin crawl.
She stepped back. "Leave me alone."
His face twisted—just for a second—before smoothing into something almost rehearsed. "I didn't mean to hurt you." A sharp exhale, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. "I wasn't myself that night. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking. I—"
"You tried to—" The words stuck in her throat. Her hands curled into fists. "Drunk doesn't excuse anything, Vic."
He flinched. His gaze dropped for half a second before lifting again, sharper. "You don't get it. You don't understand what you've done to me."
Cold dread wrapped around her spine.
"You made me like this," he whispered.
She turned on her heel, heart slamming against her ribs—but before she could take another step, his fingers closed around her wrist.
Tight.
"Don't walk away from me."
She wrenched free so hard she nearly stumbled. The burn of his grip still lingered on her skin.
He didn't follow.
Just stood there, breathing heavily, hands shaking.
"I love you," he said, but it wasn't soft. Wasn't gentle.
It sounded like a threat.
She ran.
—
The first note showed up in her locker the next morning.
Did you think I forgot you?
The handwriting was frantic, the paper folded neatly. Placed there deliberately.
A chill ran through her.
By lunch, the whispers had started.
"Vic said she's playing him."
"I heard she still texts him."
"He's not the crazy one—she just likes the attention."
She slammed her tray onto the table. Hard.
Sally flinched.
"Whoa," Zeke muttered. "You okay?"
Her stomach churned.
She knew Vic. Knew how he worked. He wasn't just obsessed. He was rewriting the story.
Turning himself into the victim.
Turning her into the villain.
And it was working.
—
By the time Eddie heard everything, his reaction was chilling.
Silence.
Then, very, very calmly—
"I'm going to kill him."
Maya grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at her. "I need you to be smart about this. I need you to be careful."
His fingers curled around hers.
Then, his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
"You don't belong in this story."
Eddie looked up.
And just like that—
He snapped.
—
The last time she saw Vic, she should have known he'd come.
She should have felt it.
But when she stepped outside—
He was already there.
And when he whispered, "You ruined me," something inside her told her—
This wasn't over.
Not even close.