Lena Hartley had always trusted in the security of habit—until the evening the world she knew turned on its side.
It was a Thursday night when the call came. Lena was sitting at her desk, eyes fixed on her computer screen, the gentle hum of the office surrounding her. She was just finishing up for the day when her phone rang. The unfamiliar number appeared on the screen, and she hesitated, a spark of curiosity. She never picked up numbers she didn't know, but there was something about this call that felt. imperative.
"Hello?" Lena said hesitantly.
A deep, serious voice spoke back, causing a thrill to run down her spine. "Lena Hartley?"
"Yes?" She clutched the phone harder.
"You don't recognize me, but I recognize you. And I require your assistance."
Her heart beat faster, but she covered the tension in her voice. "Who is this?"
There was a silence, the sort of silence that one could only think of as being intentional. "You don't have to know my name. I can assist you… if you trust me."
Lena heard the blade of danger sharpened in his tone, and yet there was something irresistible within it. She wanted to terminate the call, but some invisible force held her rooted to reality. "What do you require of me?
"You'll find a letter on your doorstep in the morning. Read it carefully. And don't tell anyone about this conversation."
Before she could respond, the line went dead. The abrupt click of the call ending left her with a cold chill and a dozen questions.