The memory of the attack was always with her, more vivid than she wanted it to be.
She could still feel his rough hands around her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs. His weight pinned her down, crushing her. No matter how hard she kicked or struggled, it didn’t stop him. Her chest burned, her legs thrashed, but nothing worked.
She’d only escaped because of the lamp. She’d grabbed it blindly from the bedside table, swinging it with every ounce of strength she had left. The crash when it shattered against his head stunned him, just long enough for her to break free.
She hadn’t stopped running until she reached a gas station miles away, barefoot and crying. The marks on her neck had already started to darken by the time she stumbled inside, trembling and gasping for air.
But that night wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning.
The notes came first—left on her doorstep, her windshield, her bag. Messages she couldn’t ignore. Then the phone calls started. Heavy breathing on the other end. No words, just silence, like he wanted her to know he was there.
Riley told herself it was a prank, that someone was messing with her, but deep down, she knew better. He was still watching her. Waiting.
She’d moved to Chicago to escape, to start fresh. A new city, a new job, a new apartment. But the unease followed her. She could never quite shake the feeling that someone was out there, tracking her every move.
That night, the feeling returned.
Riley stood in her apartment, the curtains closed tight, but her skin prickled with the unmistakable sense of being watched. Her heart raced as she glanced at the window, but she couldn’t bring herself to look out. Instead, she grabbed her bag and decided to head back to the restaurant.
She told herself it was safer there, with people around. The noise and chaos of the kitchen would drown out the fear.
Stepping into the hallway, Riley gripped her keys tightly, holding them between her fingers like a weapon. She forced herself to walk calmly, but her breath quickened as she reached the parking lot.
Then she heard it. Footsteps.
They were soft at first, almost like an echo of her own. But they grew louder, faster, deliberate.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she turned, her eyes darting to the shadows. She couldn’t see anyone, but the footsteps kept coming.
Riley didn’t wait to see who it was. She ran.
Her sneakers slapped against the pavement as she sprinted toward the narrow alley behind the restaurant. Her legs burned, her chest heaved, but she didn’t stop. The footsteps were right behind her, closing in fast.
She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw a shadow—a tall, broad figure moving like a predator.
Her breath caught as she turned back, her legs screaming in protest with every step. She rounded a corner blindly, and then—
She collided with someone.
The impact sent her stumbling, but before she could scream, a hand clamped over her mouth.
“Keep quiet,” a voice hissed in her ear.