Lena's POV
I don't know what I was expecting when I arrived at the apartment that night. Maybe a quiet evening with a glass of wine and the comfort of my own thoughts. Instead, I walked into chaos.
The soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the wall clock were the only sounds that greeted me. The world outside was dimming, the last traces of daylight fading into an inky twilight, but in my mind, I could hear nothing but the unanswered questions that had been haunting me for days.
Where the hell was Ethan?
His disappearance was sudden, unsettling—a crack in the otherwise smooth surface of my life. One day he was here, full of life and smiles, and the next... gone. No one knew where he was. No calls, no texts, no signs. Just a void.
I'd filed a missing person report, but deep down, I knew the cops weren't exactly rushing to solve the case. Not when my brother's disappearance seemed more like a shadow slipping through the cracks of reality. Ethan was a bit of a loner, always diving headfirst into some strange new project or obsession. But this? This felt different.
I pushed open the door to my apartment, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag on the floor. It was a small, tidy place—nothing extravagant, just the way I liked it. Clean lines, neutral colors. The kind of apartment that felt safe and comfortable, a stark contrast to the storm swirling in my mind.
I froze when I saw the journal on the coffee table. Ethan's journal.
I hadn't seen it in days. It had been missing since the night he vanished. I couldn't even remember when I'd last laid eyes on it. But there it was—its leather cover worn from years of use, its pages filled with ink that once seemed to hold answers to everything I didn't understand about him.
I approached it slowly, heart pounding. The journal had always been his private world, a place where he spilled his thoughts, his fears, his secrets. I never dared to read it—too afraid of what I might find, or worse, what I might not. But now, with him gone and no leads to follow, it was the only thing I had left.
I picked it up carefully, feeling the weight of it in my hands. For a moment, I simply held it, as if hoping some piece of Ethan's essence would seep through the pages and into me. But when I opened it, the words leaped out at me like a warning.
"They're coming for me. The others. I don't know who I can trust anymore. Lena is in danger too. I'm sorry for the secrets, but they'll never stop looking for her. They'll never stop looking for what she is."
My breath caught in my throat. The words didn't make sense. What did he mean by "what she is"? What the hell was he talking about?
I flipped through more pages, my eyes scanning the frantic scribbles, the rambling thoughts, the disconnected fragments of his mind. But the more I read, the more my stomach twisted in knots. Something didn't feel right.
I jumped when my phone buzzed on the counter, the sudden noise shattering the silence. My fingers were trembling as I picked it up. The screen lit up with a text from an unknown number:
"You have something that belongs to me."
The words were simple, but the threat behind them was unmistakable. My pulse shot up. I glanced back at the journal in my hands, the realization sinking in. Whoever had sent that message knew exactly what I had. Whoever was behind Ethan's disappearance had been watching me.
I was no longer safe in my own home.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. I quickly shoved the journal into the nearest drawer, desperate to hide it before whoever was looking for it found me. But before I could lock it, the sound of something crashing against the window sent me leaping to my feet. My heart pounded in my chest, and I froze.
I wasn't alone.
The door to my apartment, the one I'd left slightly ajar, creaked open slowly. Someone was inside.
I backed away, my breath shallow, my mind racing. How could they have gotten in? How had they known?
I had no weapons, no way of defending myself. My instincts screamed at me to run, but my feet were frozen to the floor. And then I saw him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes that blended into the shadows of the room. His features were sharp, his jaw clenched tight as his eyes locked onto mine. His presence filled the space, suffocating and overpowering.
"Lena Cross," he said, his voice low and gravelly, like it came from the depths of his soul. "You have something that doesn't belong to you."
His gaze flickered briefly to the drawer where I had hidden Ethan's journal. I swallowed hard, my body tense as I fought to keep my composure.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I managed to say, my voice shaky.
His lips curled into a dark smile, but there was no warmth in it—only the cold promise of danger. "Don't lie. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now, where is it?"
I stood there, paralyzed, my mind racing for an escape plan that didn't exist. This stranger—who was he? How did he know about the journal? More importantly, why did he want it so badly?
The air felt thick, heavy with tension. And then, before I could respond, his gaze softened just a fraction. A flash of recognition flickered in his eyes, and I saw something there—a depth that felt familiar, like I had seen it before, in someone else's eyes.
"You don't know what you're dealing with," he continued, his voice almost gentle now. "But you will soon. You're deeper in this than you realize, Lena."
I took a step back, but he moved faster than I could react. In one swift motion, he had closed the gap between us. My breath hitched as he grabbed my arm, his fingers like iron around my wrist.
"Where is it?" he demanded again, his voice taking on a more forceful edge.
I wanted to scream, to fight, but the weight of his presence—his power—was suffocating. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
The only thing I could do was shake my head, trying to convey that I had no idea where it was, no idea what he was talking about. But the stranger wasn't convinced. He stared at me with piercing eyes, as if he were searching my soul.
And then, as quickly as it had begun, the pressure eased. He released my arm, stepping back. The silence in the room was deafening.
"I'll find it," he said, his voice dark and final. "And when I do, I'll make you understand."
Before I could respond, he turned and walked toward the window, vanishing into the night as silently as he had come.
I stood there, my heart racing, my thoughts swirling in a million directions. What the hell just happened? And who was that man?
I moved to the drawer, my hands shaking as I pulled it open to check on Ethan's journal. It was gone.
The only thing left in its place was a single, silver coin.
A coin that glowed faintly in the dim light.
I stared at it, my stomach churning as realization hit me.
The game had changed.
And now, I was the one being hunted.