Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Damien's expression darkens, but he steps back. "Ten minutes. Then I'm coming to find you after five."
The hallway feels longer than usual as I make my way to the elevator, Doug trotting beside me. My phone buzzes in my pocket—probably Damien already texting to check on me—but I ignore it. I need these few minutes alone to process everything. I'm too wired up to think logically. My anxiety bubbles to the surface, and my heart hammers in my chest.
I just need a few minutes of fresh air. One or two then I'm coming back inside.
Outside, Doug pulls eagerly on his leash, happy for the unexpected walk. I let him lead, my thoughts swirling with possibilities, each one worse than the last.
What if Damien's right? What if someone is watching me? Following me? Social media stalkers aren't exactly unheard-of, and I've been online enough to know how many content creators had to deal with crazy fans. It's way more common than people think.
I just never thought I would be one of them.
Doug stops to sniff at a fire hydrant, giving me a moment to scan the quiet street. Nothing seems out of place. No one is watching from parked cars or lurking in the shadows. Just normal people going about their evening.
I'm overreacting. That's all this is.
Then I see him.
Standing half a block away, near the entrance to our building. A man in dark clothes, staring directly at me. Even from this distance, I can tell it's the same person Damien confronted—the fake delivery man.
My heart doesn't just stutter—it slams against my ribs like a caged bird desperate to escape. The sound of my pulse fills my ears, drowning out everything else until it's just a roaring rush of white noise. My vision tunnels, the edges going dark and fuzzy, until all I can see is his face.
This can't be happening. This can't be real.
My hands start trembling first, then the shaking spreads up my arms and down through my legs until I'm not sure I can stay upright. Every breath feels too shallow, like I'm trying to breathe through a straw, and my chest tightens because I can't get enough air into my lungs.
The rational part of my brain—the tiny corner that isn't screaming in panic—tries to catalog escape routes. The building entrance is behind him. The street is empty. No one else around. My phone is in my pocket, but my hands are shaking too badly to even think about reaching for it.
He smiles when our eyes meet, and it's the wrongness of that smile that freezes me in place. It's too familiar, too intimate.
I don't know this man.
Doug growls, the sound so unexpected from his tiny body that I almost laugh despite my fear.
The man approaches, his pace unhurried, confident. "Alyssa, sweetheart. Finally. Just you and me."
My throat closes. How does he know my name?
Stupid question. Of course he knows my name. He's been sending me packages. Commenting on my videos. Watching me. Learning about my life with every video and photo.
"I don't know you. Please leave me alone."
"Don't be silly. It's me, Barry. You know, Marcus Lover. Marcus is my middle name." He stops a few feet away, close enough that I can smell stale sweat and something chemical beneath it. "I've been trying to reach you for so long, but they keep getting in the way."
Doug barks sharply, placing his tiny body between us. The sound seems to startle Barry, whose smile falters.
"You need to shut that rat up."
"He's not a rat. He's my dog." I take a step back, tightening my grip on the leash. "I'm going inside now."
"We have so much to talk about, Alyssa. I've been so patient." He steps closer, his eyes never leaving my face. "Did you like the gifts? I picked each one especially for you."
"Please don't come any closer." My back bumps against the brick wall of the building. When did I get here? "I don't want your gifts."
His face changes, hardening into something ugly. "You're just confused. They've poisoned you against me." His hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist. "We belong together. I know it. You know it."
Pain shoots up my arm as his fingers dig into my skin. Doug erupts into a frenzy of barks, lunging at Barry's ankles.
"Let go of me!" I try to twist away, but his grip tightens.
"You're hurting her! Let go!" The voice belongs to Mrs. Simone from 1B, appearing from around the corner with her grocery bags. "Young man, unhand her this instant!"
Barry's attention shifts for just a second—enough for me to wrench my arm free. Doug continues his assault, tiny teeth bared at Barry's pant leg.
"Fucking mutt!" Barry aims a kick at Doug, who dodges with surprising agility, his barking growing more frantic.
Mrs. Simone drops her groceries and charges forward with surprising speed for a seventy-year-old woman, swinging her cane wildly. It connects with Barry's shoulder, making him yelp.