A creak.
Luna's eyes snapped open, her breath hitching. The sound came from somewhere outside her window. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, each beat reverberating in her ears. She turned her head slowly toward the glass. The world outside appeared still—too still.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, just as she began to convince herself it was nothing, a shadow passed.
Her muscles locked. She stared, unblinking, at the window. The shadow was quick, barely more than a flicker, but it was there. Someone was outside.
The pendant around her neck felt heavier now, almost warm against her skin. She clutched it tightly, its rough edges digging into her palm as her mind raced.
Should she wake Vivian? Call for help? What if it was just her imagination?
But deep down, Luna knew it wasn't.
Outside, Marcus Blackthorne stood at the edge of the yard, his hood pulled low over his face. His dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he studied the small house. His lips curved into a slow, cruel smile.
"She's here," he muttered to himself. "Right where I need her to be."
The wind rustled the leaves above him, but Marcus didn't move. He remained a silent predator, blending into the shadows. He had been watching for days, studying her movements, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Inside, Luna's breaths came shallow and fast. She slid off the bed as quietly as she could, her bare feet landing on the cool floor. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the curtains aside, just enough to peek out.
At first, she saw nothing. The backyard stretched out under the moonlight, the grass swaying gently in the breeze. The old oak tree stood in its usual spot, casting long shadows across the yard.
Then, her eyes caught it—a figure near the fence.
Her heart skipped a beat. The figure wasn't moving, but its presence was undeniable. It stood just within the shadows, its form partially hidden by the trees.
Luna pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Panic clawed at her chest, but she forced herself to stay still, to think.
"Who are you?" she whispered, though no one could hear her.
The figure took a step forward. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if meant to intimidate.
Luna let the curtain fall back into place and stumbled away from the window, her legs shaky. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table, her fingers fumbling to unlock it.
Her mind screamed at her to call someone—anyone—but the thought of explaining this, of sounding paranoid, stopped her. Instead, she held the phone tightly, her thumb hovering over the emergency button.
Downstairs, the creak of floorboards echoed faintly through the house. Luna froze, her eyes darting toward her bedroom door.
Someone was inside.
Her throat tightened. She moved slowly to lock her door, her fingers fumbling with the latch. Her breaths were shallow, the sound of her own heartbeat nearly deafening in the silence.
"Stay calm," she whispered to herself. "Think."
Marcus was already gone from the yard, his silent footsteps carrying him around to the side of the house. He paused beneath the window, his sharp ears picking up the faint rustle of movement inside. A satisfied smirk played on his lips.
"She's scared," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "Good."
He reached up, running his fingers lightly along the window's edge, his touch almost reverent.
Marcus wasn't just here to frighten her—he had a plan. And Luna was the key to it all.
Luna's phone buzzed in her hand, the sudden vibration making her jump. She nearly dropped it before seeing the name on the screen: Lily.
The message read:
"Hey, can't sleep. You okay?"
Luna hesitated. Part of her wanted to tell Lily everything, to pour out her fear and confusion. But how could she explain this? How could she put into words the feeling of being hunted?
Instead, she typed back a simple reply:
"I'm fine. Just tired."
The response came almost instantly.
"Wanna talk? Might help."
Luna stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She glanced toward the window again, her chest tightening. The shadow was gone, but the unease remained.
"Not tonight. Thanks, though."
She set the phone down and backed away from the door, her instincts screaming that something wasn't right.
Miles away, in a dark room lit only by a flickering lamp, Marcus sat at a small desk. His hood was pushed back, revealing his sharp features and cold, calculating eyes.
In front of him was a map of Crestwood, pinned to the wall. Several locations were circled in red, but one stood out—a bold, jagged circle around Luna's house.
"She has no idea," he said, leaning back in his chair.
Beside him lay a black notebook, its pages filled with scribbled notes and sketches. He picked it up, flipping through until he found a photograph tucked between the pages.
It was Luna, her face frozen in an innocent smile.
Marcus traced a finger over the image, his expression darkening.
"You're going to be important, little Luna," he murmured. "More important than you could ever imagine."
Luna finally crawled back into bed, though sleep was the last thing on her mind. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, her eyes darting between the window and the locked door.
The house felt too quiet, as if it was holding its breath. Every small creak, every gust of wind outside made her flinch.
She clutched the pendant around her neck, its weight somehow grounding her. It was the only thing that made her feel even slightly safe.
But even as exhaustion pulled at her, her thoughts were haunted by the shadow outside.
Back in his dimly lit room, Marcus opened the notebook to a blank page. With a steady hand, he wrote a single sentence:
"Tomorrow, we begin."
His smirk widened as he closed the notebook, the sound of the binding snapping shut echoing through the quiet room.