Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You watch her from afar, the mysterious type of girl, always knows how to lie.

Being lied to isn’t the deal with her. She wears her lies as a perfume.

She is special.

The kind of special that everybody desires, but nobody seems to keep.

She is dangerous.

You don’t believe me.

Nobody does.

But they will.

She laughs and the sound cuts through the night like a glass shattering.

Everyone believes her. They always do. It wont be for long.

Chapter Text

“Did you know that 80% of American households own Uno?” Sloane exclaimed, still staring at her cards. The shirt she wore sagged at the collar—Aaron’s shirt, the one he had given her before he was killed. She kept tugging at her gold, Fibonacci-shaped necklace as she added, “Your turn, Lia!”

Michael really shouldn’t have given her coffee.

The clock ticked in silence, a slow heartbeat in the corner. I eyed my hand and pulled out the red four that had been begging to be played, slapping it onto the stack.

“Your turn, Dean,” I said sing-song, twirling a strand of hair dyed blue against the black.

I already knew he didn’t have a red. I may have peeked once—or twice.

Dean hesitated before swiping a card from the draw pile, as though the outcome physically pained him.

“I swear this game hates me,” he grumbled as he looked at the card.

His jaw tightened. He studied it for a second too long. Then his shoulders slumped—not in frustration, but in relief.

Liar.

I smirked. “Oh no, Dean. The game doesn’t hate you. The game just… likes me better.”

Michael was next. The clock ticked in the background, echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Everyone else waited, cards clutched close. Michael’s mind seemed to drift further and further away, his body present but his head gone.

“Michael? Your turn? Uno?” I waved a hand in front of him after calling out about a hundred times.

“O-oh, yeah. I’m about to win,” he stammered.

No, you aren’t. I am.

Unlike other games, this time I had stayed quiet, observing. Letting the cards speak. Letting silence stretch thin enough to snap.

I haven’t been feeling well lately. Probably dehydration. Not really important.

It can wait.

Cassie picked her card carefully, brushing her nails against the stack. With a quick glance at Michael, she slapped down a red reverse card. The sound cracked through the room. Everyone groaned at the sudden shift. Now it was Michael’s turn again.

This time, he wasn’t dazing. He was watching. Not the table. Not his cards. But Sloane’s face. His eyes locked in, too sharp, too focused. He stifled a smirk, but not before I caught it.

He’d reached the same conclusion as me. Sloane wasn’t the best at masking her emotions. But that didn’t make her worse than us.

Michael hovered his hand over his cards, weighing the risk. Save it for later—or not? Finally, he slapped one down.

“Best I’ve got,” he said with a shrug.

Another liar. Too cocky to admit defeat.

Dean’s turn. He wasted no time pulling a draw four and smiling. “Sorry, Lia, but I want to win.”

Knew it. I always do. They all leave clues, tiny and unintentional. Playing against them is like playing with toddlers. Pathetic.

I drew four random cards. A red. A wild. Two draw twos. The deck was laughing at me. I sighed dramatically.

“I’m leaving you all to face your imminent doom while I refill my body with a cold substance,” I said, pushing up from the bean bag I’d been sprawled on.

I straightened Cassie’s skirt—well, technically mine now—and strolled out of the living room. Not too fast, not too slow. The pace Lia would move at.

Unlike Sadie, I’m not slow. I’m not quick. I’m not used. I’m… sort of normal. As normal as a Natural can be.

The kitchen was darker than it should’ve been. The light switch clicked uselessly. Dead. Again. For the past week, it had been like this.

Oh well.

I pulled out my phone from my hoodie pocket, its black case covered in random stickers. I flicked on the flashlight and headed to the water cooler.

Just as I reached for a cup—the nice blue ones Judd had bought last Sunday—my phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number.

Without thinking, I answered. “Knock-knock.”

A voice was rasping. Close.

“I see you,” the voice hissed. “Wearing that pretty redhead’s dress. You better listen—”

“To you? Not happening anytime soon. Bye!”

I hung up as quickly as I answered, eyes darting around the room, pulse thundering in my throat.

No. This was Sadie trying to come out. She’s not supposed to. She can’t .

I am Lia.

Back to Lia. Always Lia.

I considered telling Director Briggs—but decided against it.

I’ve been to hell. I’ve been in a cult. Some random fifty-something year old stalker wasn’t going to scare me.

Then another buzz. My stomach twisted. Same number. A text this time.

I stuck out my tongue, unlocking my phone with Face ID, curious what the creep wanted now.

As soon as I opened the message, my stomach dropped. A chill ran through me.

The photo wasn’t just any photo. It was taken seconds ago—me and the others, playing Uno.

Me, mid-smile. Dean mid-grumble. Michael staring. Sloane twisting her necklace. Cassie eyeing her cards. All of us.

My hand trembled as I read the text:

Did you miss me, Sadie?

Chapter Text

It didn’t matter.

I am not Sadie.

I am not afraid.

If that bastard wants to tell me something, he can come say it to my face.

The clock thundered in the background, every tick rattling into my brain, and my throat tightened. I swallowed hard, water burning down as if it could drown the tremor in my hands. I am not weak. I am not Sadie. I am Lia.

Outside, the others were still playing Uno. With a smirk, Michael slapped his final card on the table, winning the game.

“Ha! I told you I’d win!”

I forced myself to cheer, pretending nothing had happened.

“Did you know that—” Sloane started, but my mind was somewhere else. I tried. I really did. Their voices faded into the background. I didn’t want them to know about the so-called stalker .

Dean’s eyes were on me. Watching me. Profiling me. He tilted his head slightly.

I am not vulnerable.

I am not her.

I am strong.

“You okay?” Dean’s whisper slid under my skin. He could see right through me. I hated it. I couldn’t form the words—any words. I nodded. The lie hung between us. But it didn’t matter. Not right now.

“I’m tired. Night, sleepyheads,” I said as confidently as I could while standing up.

“Already? But we’ve only played two rounds!” Michael protested.

“What can I do? Night calls. I’m exhausted,” I replied playfully, trying to assure Dean that I was, in fact, okay.

“Did you know that 23% of people quit Uno after only two rounds?” Sloane quipped.

Thankful for her distraction, I quickly ran upstairs.

I tried to concentrate. Upstairs, my phone buzzed. My heart tightened at the sound. Hesitantly, I picked it up and opened the text.

Dean: Lia, what happened in the kitchen?

He knew. He always knew. He could read me better than anyone—even Michael. He always noticed when something was wrong.

Me: Nothing. I went to get water. What are you talking about? I’m just tired.

I tossed my phone away. It was just some random creep who wanted my attention. Nothing special. I was worrying over nothing

I plugged in my headphones, started listening to my all-time favorite playlist, and tried to fall asleep.

——————————☆——————————

The next day, the whispers came. Director Briggs. Agent Sterling. Their voices, low and clipped, seeping through the walls. Talking about a cold case.

What’s all this hustle outside my room?

Curious—and kind of excited to see what the new case was about—I got up from bed and quickly threw on an outfit.

Black oversized shirt, check.

Ripped jeans, check.

Cute necklace, check.

Perfect.

I tied my hair into two pigtails and left the room, glancing back before shutting the door.

The air smelled sweet—pancakes. Jude must’ve been baking again. The scent was almost comforting. Almost.

At the table sat only Dean and Cassie, too consumed in conversation to notice my arrival.

“What are the lovebirds talking about?” I teased. Not that I cared. I hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep, so all I wanted was peace and quiet.

Sloane appeared from the other room, drinking coffee like it was oxygen.

Michael, I am going to kill you.

“Did you know that 43% of people get a full seven hours of sleep every night?” she blurted.

“Who gave her coffee again? Michael—you gave her coffee again? I swear—” I groaned.

“I hate me too,” he shot back.

“You know how she gets when you give her coffee!” I protested.

“Okay, guys, settle down. There’s no time for arguing. We have a new cold case for you to solve,” Agent Sterling cut in, her voice firm as she paced the room.

“Another cold case? Why don’t you trust us with a real one again? You know we can help!” Michael argued.

Sterling ignored him completely. Her gaze swept the room, sharp and deliberate, before landing on me.

“Okay,” she said, her voice low. “Here’s what you need to know.” She dropped a thick folder on the table. The sound snapped the room into silence.

“This case revolves around several women who disappeared over the years. Different states. Same initials: S. Z. Different circumstances every time,” Director Briggs explained.

He’s a director now, but he still comes back to teach us sometimes. Can’t seem to stay away.

He opened the folder, revealing photos of smiling women, frozen in time.

The walls closed in on me. My chest tightened. Breathing suddenly felt impossible.

“That’s… oddly specific,” Cassie muttered.

Briggs ignored her, pressing play on the recorder in his hands.

A low, broken, rusty voice filled the room:

“She doesn’t deserve to breathe.”

The recording ended with a sharp click that echoed in the silence.

“Those voice messages were left on every victim’s phone. Always different words, but the same meaning. Always the same voice. Then the women vanished. No bodies. No traces. Nothing,” Agent Sterling continued.

“This case has been cold for five years. But a new voice message appeared last week. Same voice.” Sterling crossed her arms.

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Another S. Z.?” he asked.

Briggs nodded.

“I want you all to focus on this cold case. Tell us what we might have missed. Focus on the cold case only. I know your tricks,” Briggs warned.

I tried to steady my trembling hands. A chill raced down my spine.

S. Z.

The letters carved into me like a thousand knives.

Sadie Zhang.

Sadie was gone now. Buried. Dead. I was Lia—confident. Strong.

But the initials were still mine.

And someone hadn’t forgotten.

Chapter Text

You look at her, worrying over the message.

Walking back and forth. Only to go back to her room and come out again.

Acting brave.

But she isn’t.

She’s still that young liar who tricked you, tricked everyone else in the cult. Your safe haven.

You take a step closer to the house. Just hours ago, that agent stood in the living room, handing out details on a new case. A killer.

You.

Through the window, her shadow paces. She flashes that signature smirk at the statistician, like everything is under control.

The others believe the mask.

You don’t.

You remember the lies. The betrayal. The way she spun words like silk— and you believed.

She broke free. She thinks that means she won.

But you know better.

She’s not untouchable. She’s just waiting for the moment her walls crack.

And when they do, you’ll be there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Chapter Text

Feeling sick to my stomach, I tried not to show how upset. I wasn’t upset- I kept telling my self. This could be coincidence.It had to be. The initials don’t have to be mine. There are thousands of names that could fit.

“Did you know that only 1.3 % of the population has a first and last name that starts with the letters S. Z. ?” Sloane informed us. “So it will be easy to think of all the names. I am on it for now,” She told us confidently. And this made me want to throw up even more.

Easy?

She was clueless. Wait until you see my name on the list. No. This can’t be it. It’s not. It was one random man that wanted to mess with my head. Make me doubt all the things I’ve worked hard to burry.

I am the new me.

I was Lia now.

Not Sadie.

Never Sadie.

“You,” Cassie began profiling the killer and narrowed her eyes. She continued, “You move from state to state. You thought we wouldn’t notice the pattern. You switched between weapons and killing styles. You think you’re smart.”

“She ruined me,” Dean started, as he slipped into the killer’s mind. “I couldn’t stop it. I am untouchable. Killing her once wasn’t enough. I want to relive it -again and again. Watching her die, shaking from the pain. The satisfaction. The joy I get every time,” Dean continued.

“I stopped for a while. I thought I was done. But the hunger never left me. The adrenaline, the joy when I killed her never left my mind. It always came back,” A chill ran through me.

“Do you think he kills again and again to relive the original murder? Or because he or she hasn’t killed her. Yet. And every victim is a practice to him,” I controlled my trembling voice as well as I could

Silence. Then I felt it. Michael’s stare. The kind of staring that could cut through walls. I knew he could see through me. But he didn’t question me quite away. He knew better.

“I’m not sure yet.” Dean said finally. “ I need to have a better look at all victims and tapes.” Dean informed me, looking deep into my eyes.

Dean has been my brother since I was twelve. Since coming here in this place. He knew the ins and outs of me. He might even know me better than I know myself. Although he doesn’t know everything. No one does. Only the things I choose to share.

“Okay, fine. Take your time. I am going to go listen to all the tapes and see if I can detect any lies, or anything at all.” I said confidently.  An excuse. I needed to get out of there now. I needed to get away. I needed to breathe.

To be alone.

But I knew better that wasn’t the best decision.

——————————☆——————————

I paced back and forth in my room. My steps uneven, restless. My heart was pounding so loud, that I thought it would break at any moment.

I am among thousands S. Z.s. This can’t be about me. This is not about me.

I kept repeating the words. Forcing my self to believe them. I tried to convince myself. But deep down, I knew the truth. It is a fact about me. But I couldn’t even shape the thought neither say it out loud. That would make it real.

Instead, I clung to the lie. Like always. Whispering it again and again.

It’s not about me. It’s not.

I needed a distraction. Anything.

I reached for the tapes and my notebook, desperate for some peace in the chaos in my mind. One by one, I listened. I scrabbled notes. Every word, every shift in tone. Trying to recognize any lies, any misleading clue, for false trails. Anything at all.

Nothing.

Every voice. Every line. Every pause. Pointed to the same conclusion. To the same truth. She doesn’t deserve to breathe.

This made me question my self, my ability, my worth. I can’t even concentrate anymore.

Something twisted in me. She, or was it me?

Was she or he, implying that the victim didn’t deserve to live, or me?

This question, pounded in my head countless of times over and over. My chest tightened. Was this message meant for me? The question echoed, relentless, in my head.

A knock. A break in the cycle.

The door cracked open slowly and Michael stepped inside.

His eyes scanned me. Like he could easily read me as if I was a piece of paper.

But right now wasn’t the time.

I tried to steady myself, but my body betrayed me. My hands shook. My breath came shallow, ragged. I couldn’t stop from shaking.

Michael moved closer. His gaze never leaving mine. He reached from my cheek and rubbed his thumb gently against my fragile skin. Warm and steady. He lifted my trembling hand and pressed it on his chest. 

Grounding me in his steady heartbeat.

Right there, for the first time, since forever, I wasn’t drowning. I felt safe.

I was safe.

“Lia,” He whispered gently. As i leaned into his touch, “I know something is wrong. I want to help you. I know that we haven’t exactly been… steady. But I care. I care about you. I care more than you realize. And it’s killing me to see you fighting this fear alone.”

He gently leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on my forehead. Remaining just long enough to quiet the storm inside me.

“You can trust me,” He whispered softly. And certainly, “I am always here for you. Right here beside you. Always,” He whispered softly. With the kind of reassurance that I needed.

A weak moment. This little one, I gave in. I wrapped my hands around him. Holding on for dear life. Like he was the only thing that keeping me in this world. And in this hug as brief as it was. I let my self sink into his arms. I wished time stopped, forever.

——————————☆——————————

Loud but gentle footsteps echoed in the hallway. Cheerful ones. Sloane’s.

For a quick second, I wished that could last forever. But reality hit me and I shook my head to realize what i’ve done.

Weak.

Fear.

Stress.

No, this wasn’t me.

I pulled away from his touch. I hated myself for it, because every part of me wanted to stay. But I would never admit it—not to him, not even to myself.

We can’t be together. Not again. Not after last time.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Sloane slowly opened the door. Exited. Happy. The kind of happiness I could never experience.

“Hey! Come downstairs now.” She said, her voice bright with joy. “Agent Sterling has new evidence to show us.”

Michael’s eyes flicked to mine. Filled with questions. Silent ones. Questioning if we should go down. Questioning if i was okay.

I didn’t give him the chance to press. I stood and moved quickly past them, not looking back, not caring. I needed distance— space to breathe, to rebuild the walls I’d let slip for one dangerous second.

Without a care in the world, I paced quickly downstairs, leaving them both in my room.

Downstairs, Dean and Cassie sat on the couch where I last saw them. Waiting. Agent Sterling was plugging a hard drive in the TV.

I sat down on the armchair. Sinking. I wanted to disappear into the fabric, to vanish from the questions. I wanted to be away from everyone. Everything. Especially Michael.

Because I knew what conversation was coming. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to be.

Chapter Text

I awaited for instructions, shaking my leg discreetly. The minute Michael entered, I sat still.

“Okay so, we got some new information,” Agent Sterling announced as she strolled into the room. “Turns out, our UNSUB used to stalk his or hers victims. The UNSUB used to stalk them for about a week before the victims disappeared.”

My stomach churned at hearing Agent Sterling’s words. A week. Thats all i have left. Six days- maybe. Let’s face it, I’m not going missing, I’m gonna die.

“Did any of you come up with something?” Agent Sterling asked, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

I forced myself to stay calm, relaxed. Like Lia. Lia doesn’t spiral. Lia is calm, sarcastic. Untouchable.

Taking a deep, steady breath, I started talking, “I’ve went through all the recordings. No trace of deception. Not of a single lie. Every voice recording was the same, certain.”

See Lia, that wasn’t so bad. Now we’ve just gotta be calm for the rest of the meeting.

“We got something from our profiling,” Cassie said, her voice still. “The UNSUB moves from state to state and thought we wouldn’t notice. So the UNSUB is likely to think that he’s smart.”

“At first we thought that he’s reliving the kills,” Dean completed, “but after going through the files, it’s more likely the UNSUB is just practicing. And after the UNSUB’s pause in his work, we think that the UNSUB’s real mission is this one.”

A chill ran through my spine.

No, I’m not his victim. I’m not going to be his victim.

“I did too!” Sloane’s cheerful and overly excited’s voice cut into my train of thought, “So, as I previously stated, 1.3% of people in this population has the initials S.Z so it was easy to run through all of them. Some of the most notable examples of females are Sally Zucker, very common in this 1.3%. Also there’s Sienna Zimmerman and Sadie Zhou—“

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice slightly quavering, “I’m going to the restroom for a minute.”

“Sure,” Agent Sterling shrugged, “Complete, Sloane?”

I got up quickly, and steadied myself and walked with short, controlled steps until I reached the bathroom.

The moment I closed the door, my chest collapsed on itself , each breath cutting and stabbing through my lungs. Hands trembling, I gripped the edge of the counter, hoping no one would see me like this.

My legs gave out, my back sliding down the door. I hit my head against it, but it didn’t matter.

Suddenly, the room began to shake -like it had years ago. I pinched myself, trying to snap out of this panic attack. Didn’t work. The panic dug in deeper and deeper.

As usual.

I couldn’t breathe. My lungs twisted in a cruel way, as if it was just loving to make this worse.

I can’t die. Not now. Not ever. I won’t die. I won’t die. I won’t die.

That bastard won’t lay a finger on me.

Minutes passed—or maybe hours. Time blurred. My vision was limited to a faint glow from the ceiling.

“Lia? Lia? It’s me, Dean,” a soft voice called, the only one I could hear. Gentle. Steady. But my body refused to respond, heart still racing as he moved closer.

“Lia? Deep breaths. In, out. In, out. Come on, again. In, out. In, out,” he coaxed, rubbing my back the way he used to when we were younger.

As I followed his instructions, my heart slowed. My lungs unclenched as if they hadn’t been on the brink of giving out. I looked up. Dean’s eyes were soft, steady, inviting. He sat down beside me and said nothing.

We didn’t talk. Not yet. Finally, I whispered, voice cracking, “How did you know to come?”

Dean tilted his head, calm, curious. “We were worried when you didn’t come back. Sterling asked me to find you. Now it’s my turn. What happened? You haven’t had a panic attack since we were thirteen.”

I hesitated. Should I tell him about the stalker, the UNSUB, all of it—or just stay quiet? But I needed calm, needed help. He had always helped me before. He wouldn’t fail me now.

So, swallowing my pride, I whispered, “Those S.Z. initials? They’re mine. My old self, Sadie Zhang.”

Dean blinked, surprised, then steady. “Lia? Serious? How…what?”

“Yeah. Serious. Some weirdo called me last night. Hung up. Then sent a photo of us playing Uno with the text, ‘Did you miss me, Sadie?’” I concluded. My right hand started shaking, and I immediately hid it with my other hand, trying to calm it down. 

“Can I see it? We need to tell Briggs or Sterling. FBI can trace it. Sloane can help,” Dean said.

“I’ll send it.” I dug into my pocket, and got out my phone. I scrolled, searching for the photo- only to find nothing.

The photo was gone.

“Dean? It’s missing,” I said, voice trembling.

“It’s going to be okay, promise. Come on, let’s go outside.”

Dean got up and offered his hand. I grabbed it, pulled him down to the floor, just like our old childhood games, and we fell together. He chuckled. I giggled. Somehow, normal.

“Thank, Dean,” I muttered.

Then my phone buzzed. Unknown number. Stomach twisted. Hands shaking.

Dean noticed, gaze soft but sharp. “Whatever it is, we handle it. Together. Okay?”

I nodded. Voice gone. Chest tight. Barely surviving—but for the first time, just barely, maybe not completely alone.

I pressed the screen.

And saw it.

Chapter Text

Lia. Running from everyone. Everything.

Scared?

Of you?

Hiding.

Having a panic attack, little Sadie?

Always the brave one, isn’t she? But no one sees the truth. No one sees her as the real her.

Except you.

She can’t hide from you.

No one can.

You have been waiting. Wanting. Needing this moment.

And now… you need her dead.

Chapter Text

Unknown number: Don’t you hide from me, Sadie.

I opened the text. My stomach dropped.

scrolling down, i froze- There it was. A photo of me and Dean in the bathroom. Just moments ago.

A chill raced down my spine.

“ It’s okay. we will figure this out. You are not alone, Lia. I will never leave you. I promise,” Dean assured me, his voice steady and grounding.

But I couldn’t hold on to his words. But I couldn’t keep my thoughts together. My thoughts scattered like shattered glass. My chest tightened. The room tilted. My mind was spinning like crazy.

“Lia, please listen to me. You are okay. I will never leave your side. You’ll always have me in your corner,” Dean reassured me.

“Okay,” I tried to sound thankful and confident. But on the inside, i wasn’t. “Maybe we should go talk to the others,” Dean nudged, pulling me out of my thoughts.

The thought of them knowing the truth- the truth I refused to believe, the truth i wasn’t ready to face- made my chest tighten.

“Okay… yeah, we should,” I said,  uncertain if it was the right choice.

I walked out slowly, steading myself for what was about to come.

When we stepped into the living room, all eyes snapped to me. To us. Scanning me. Michael’s gaze cut through me, like he already knew.

Dean must have sensed my hesitation, as he spoke first, taking the lead. “ So Lia has… something to tell everyone. Erm-“

But no. I had to do this.

I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t Sadie.

“Yeah so… remember the case we are currently working on? Well- funny thing- i am the next victim,” I forced a laugh.

“Lia? What? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Are you okay?” Cassie rushed over wrapping me in a tight hug. “ I am here for you. We all are. Whatever this is, we’ll deal with it together. You’re okay,” She whispered.

“But how?! What it doesn’t make mathematical sense,” Sloan muttered. “Your name doesn’t even start with S. Z. !”

The question came. I was avoiding this question for years. And it finally came.

“My real name is Sadie Zhang, as I rarely stated before,” I said, steadying my voice.

“Lia,” Agent’s Sterling’s voice cut sharp full of disappointment,You should have come to me immediately. Now you have to tell us what happened right this second.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Okay so long story short,” I said flatly, like it meant nothing, “i’ve been getting texts and calls from an No ID caller. The voice… it’s the same as the tapes.“ I stated confidently, like nothing happened. Like this was not important.

Like it wasn’t killing me inside.

“How long has this been happening,”Michael’s eyes burned into mine with terror and sadness.

“About a week now…” I admitted.

“About a week? Lia are you insane?” His voice breaking. He pushed back from his chair, pacing to the door. Slamming it shut, the sound cracked through the room—anger, devastation, fear.

I wanted to run after him. I wanted to get out of this room to get out of all the burning stares, of all the questions.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not anymore.

“He’ll come around,” Cassie said softly. “He is just hurt that you didn’t trust him enough.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t care”

But I did. God, cared. I wanted to scream. To scream until I had no voice left at me.

“Okey now give me your phone. The IT needs to scan it and see if they can find anything,” Director Briggs ordered. I handed it over without hesitation.

“The password is 3103”

“Michael’s birthday. March 31.” Sloane muttered after a pause.

“Oh-yeah. I forgot to change it,”I tried to sound casual, not suspicious. But deep down, I knew. Some part of me had always known.

The room fell silent. The kind of silence that presses on your ears, makes you want to scream just to break it.

Briggs studied me with that calculating look of his. “We’ll find the source of the calls, I promise you Lia don’t be afraid,” he said finally. “But from now on, you don’t go anywhere alone. Understood?”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach twisted tighter.

Dean moved closer, his hand brushing mine—soft full of comfort. “You’re safe,” he whispered. But I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me, or himself.

The door creaked open. Michael stepped back inside, his jaw tight, eyes avoiding me. For a moment, I thought he’d walk right past. Instead, he stopped right in front of me.

“You should have told me,” His voice was low, trembling with restrained fury.

“I know,” I said, softer than I meant to.

Agent sterling cleared her throat, “We’ll set up surveillance right now. The UNSUB who’s targeting you, Sadie-“ my heart stopped when she emphasized on my name -my real name-, “is getting closer and closer. And we have to be prepared for anything. We don’t have much time.”

“Okay so, need you to listen to me,” Director Briggs said sharply.

“Someone will be with Lia every minute. Don’t you dare do anything stupid, Especially you Michael,” He warned us. “Not this time. Not again,” He continued.

My phone buzzed on the table. Every head snapped towards it.

Unknown number.

A new message.

“Tick tock, Sadie. You’re already too late.”

Chapter Text

Director Briggs was the first to reach the phone.

“Stalker again?” I asked, forcing myself to sound as Lia as possible.

“Yes. Ronnie? Put this in an evidence bag, please,” he responded. Agent Sterling obeyed, rolling her eyes at the nickname.

“Okay. Before I go, Cassie, Dean, I’m texting you the details so you can start profiling once the results come in. For now, there’s nothing for any of you to do until we get the IT results,” Agent Sterling said raising herself up from the couch, and walked out with her usual, confident walk. Briggs followed, clearly trying to catch her attention.

“Wanna play a game?” I asked as I leaned back on the chair, ignoring Micheal’s gaze.

“Lia can i talk to you?” Judd’s worried expression met mine. I nodded, while Director Briggs was already pacing out of the room towards Sterling, I followed Judd into the kitchen.

”Lia, i know this is hard for you, okay? I get it. But you should have come to me earlier,” His voice cracking with disappointment.

“You and the others… you’re the only ones keeping me standing, keeping me breathing. I can’t imagine losing you, or any of my kids. Yes, my kids. I care about you all. So next time, you come to me first. Promise me that.”

it was the first time that i had ever seen Judd so vulnerable.

“ I am sorry Judd, you know how i am… I always keep things to myself… But I realize now- I should’ve told you sooner. I am sorry” I tried to sound confident, strong, while we both knew i wasn’t.

“Aw come here”He opened his arms, and I stepped into the first hug we’d ever shared. It wasn’t awkward. It was safe. Warm.

The kind of love i felt from a parent.

Judd was right- he was my father. The father figure i had always needed. The one who stood by me when I needed him the most.

“Thank you Judd. For everything. You’ve  been so good to us. And I know that i can be difficult sometimes, but I need you to know that i love you and respect you- for everything you’ve done. You are the father figure we never had…” My voice trembled, but I wanted him to understand.

“Your welcome, Lia. I love being your guys father too. Now go before you make me cry.”he said with a small laugh, trying to cover his emotions.

This was Judd- always caring, never showing too much.

“Okay, okay,” I laughed softly, stepping back and heading toward the living room.

I wanted to forget about everything. I wanted a normal day again.

I sat back on the chair, still ignoring Micheal’s gaze.

“Truth or dare?” I asked, a half-smile on my lips.

Cassie groaned. “Oh, come on. We’re not twelve.”

“Scared?” I teased.

“Fine. Truth,” She said confidently.

I leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Who here do you trust the least?”

Her smirk faltered. She glanced at Michael first, and then her eyes met mine,

“…Honestly? You.”

The room went still.

Dean laughed, but it was forced. “Okay, my turn. Truth or Dare Michael?”

“Dare.”

“Fine,” Dean said. “Go outside. Thirty seconds. Alone.”

Everyone stared at me.

Thinking about the stalker, he might be outside… watching, waiting.

“That’s insane,” Michael scoffed.

“Terrified?” I asked.

His pride got the better of him. He stood, walked to the door, and slipped out.

The silence inside was heavier than the night outside.

We waited. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty.

When the door creaked open again, Michael stepped back in, pale, his eyes darting. “Don’t make me do that again.”

No one asked what he’d seen.

“Okay Lia, Truth or dare?” Sloan said.

I thought for a little.. let’s switch it up a little and go with “Truth.” But we all knew i could lie and nobody would catch me.

Her expression darkened. “If you had to choose one person in this room to sacrifice to save yourself… who would it be?”

My mouth went dry. Everyone’s eyes burned into me, waiting, demanding an answer.

The game wasn’t a game anymore.

“If I had to choose—”

A loud knock thundered against the front door.

We all froze.

It wasn’t a friendly knock. It was deliberate. Slow. Like someone wanted us to know they were out there.

Dean stood first, his chair scraping against the floor. “No one open it.”

The knocking stopped. Silence.

Then—buzz. Michael’s phone lit up on the table. An unknown number. He hesitated, then flipped it over.

A voicemail.

The room was suffocating as he pressed play.

A distorted voice, His voice, filled the air: “Truth or dare?”

The phone slipped from his hand and clattered against the floor.

No one spoke. The game was over. But somehow, it had just begun.

“Truth…” A pause, long enough for our breaths to sync in the silence. “…who in this room is lying about who they really are?”

Cassie’s hand flew to her mouth. Dean’s knuckles whitened around the armrest.

His voice continued, calm, almost playful.

“Or dare…” Another pause. “…open the door.”

The line went dead.

The phone screen went black, but the weight of the words stayed, pressing on all of us.

No one moved. No one breathed.

Finally, Judd came to the room running. His voice tight with anger, “The game’s over. Everyone, stay put.”

But the truth was, the game wasn’t over. It was only just beginning.

Chapter Text

You smile as they shiver, head turning left and right. They aren’t those “brave” teens they think they are.

They’ll soon see.

They’ll learn.

It’s not them you want. Only that girl. The one with black hair and blue highlights. The one who acts brave.

The one who tore everything away from you.

The one who ruined your life.

She’ll see. You will make sure of it. Sadie won’t see you coming.

No one will see you coming. You’ll be as fast as a cheetah, as sly as a fox, and as quiet as a shadow.

You creep out of the yard of their house, careful, patient. Your work here is done.

They can have a good night’s sleep for now. They won’t have one for long, so they might as well enjoy it.

It’s a small mercy — one you’ll give before you take the rest.

Chapter Text

“Lia, Sloane, and Cassie, you three are sleeping in one room. Michael and Dean, you’re together. Since the stalker contacted both Lia and Michael, no one is ever alone. You’re always in duos and trios,” Judd said as he ushered us into two rooms.

Listening through the shut door, I heard Judd faintly on a call, informing Sterling and Briggs about the situation.

“So… where are you going to sleep?” Sloane asked, her eyebrows drawing slightly closer.

“I’m not sure…” I responded. Hadn’t really thought about it.

“I can ask Dean and Michael if they can get your mattress here if you want,” Cassie offered.

“Whatever you say,” I replied. I don’t need a mattress—or even a pillow. I’m not going to sleep. Not when there’s a stalker trying to kill me.

——————————☆——————————

When Sloane and Cassie eventually drifted off, I crept outside to the roof. Ever since I got here, it had been my safe space.

Stopping by the kitchen, I grabbed the tub of cookies and cream ice cream and a spoon, savoring the cold, creamy weight in my hands as I made my way out. The night air hit me, sharp and clean, carrying the faint hum of distant traffic.

I sat cross-legged on the roof. The stars were scattered across the sky like spilled glitter, blinking softly. I set the half-eaten tub of ice cream to the side, and for a moment, I just breathed, letting the quiet wrap around me.

Thud-thud.

My head snapped up, heart hammering. The sound was close, getting closer. My chest tightened as adrenaline surged through me.

No, no, no… not him. Please, not him.

I should’ve listened to Judd. I should’ve stayed in the room.

I froze, trying to listen, each step of the tiles echoing too loudly in my ears. The wind shifted, brushing across my face and tangling my hair. I held my breath, waiting for the next sound.

Thud-thud.

Closer.

I inched backward, pressing myself flat against the tiles.

Stay silent. Maybe he doesn’t know I’m here.

Then… relief, like a wave crashing softly over my panic.

“Hey…”

It was Cassie. My chest loosened,

It’s Cassie. That’s it. No stalker.

“Sorry if I scared you. I woke up and noticed you were gone, so I figured you’d be here, knowing you like the roof,” she said, trying to hide the sleepiness in her eyes.

“No, you didn’t scare me. I don’t get scared easily,” I said, though my voice quivered a little. I wasn’t sure if I was convincing her—or myself.

“So, any ice cream? I have a spoon,” she said, holding hers up like a peace offering.

“Here,” I said, moving the tub between us. “Half’s gone, but the rest is yours.”

Cassie dug in, and the quiet between us felt…soft, almost intimate. When she set the tub aside, it felt like she was breaking down a wall between us.

I shifted slightly, the tiles pressing cold into my legs, and exhaled. “Do you ever just play… what if? What if we just ran away from all of… this?” I gestured vaguely toward the house, toward everything that had been chasing us, suffocating us. “What if I hadn’t gotten out of that cult? What if I’d been a normal teenager? Had a normal childhood?”

Cassie blinked, trying to mask her surprise. Even though we were close, we never really talked like this. Deep stuff. Vulnerable stuff.

The stalker must be really getting to me.

“To be honest, I do. Sometimes I think—what if I had stalled a bit longer? Just two minutes longer, and my mom would’ve been alive. What if I never entered that dressing room? What if my mom had never left Lacey in that hellhole of a home?” She paused, her gaze fixating on somewhere far away. “But as Sloane once said, ‘None of us had normal childhoods. If we had, we wouldn’t be Naturals.’ And as painful and dangerous as being a Natural can be, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

We fell into silence, listening to the wind, the distant hum of life far below, and the faint, comforting sound of our own breathing.

I closed my eyes and thought of all the “what ifs” that had haunted me since I could remember—every choice, every mistake, every tiny thing that could’ve changed everything. The roof was still, the stars still blinking, but inside me, the world spun faster than ever.

A few minutes passed. The first hints of dawn crept over the horizon, painting the sky with faint oranges and pinks.

“Cassie, Judd’s going to kill us if we don’t get downstairs,” I nudged her gently, breaking the dreamlike quiet.

Cassie blinked, shaking her head slightly as if waking from a spell. She picked up her spoon, still holding onto the night’s calm, as I grabbed the tub of ice cream.

Together, we crept back toward her and Sloane’s—temporarily mine too—room, the tiles cold under our bare feet, the air growing lighter with the rising sun.

“Where have you two been?”

Chapter Text

Cassie and I turned around slowly, trying to make it take as long as possible. Angry Judd at 4:30 a.m. is not exactly fun.

“I repeat-, where have you girls been?” Judd’s voice sharp, cutting through the dark.

I glanced at Cassie, hoping my eyes told her loud and clear: don’t talk.

“In the house. Where else?” I shrugged.

Lying isn’t about inventing a story; it’s about choosing a truth that fits.

Judd sighed and looked at Cassie. Of course. The weak link. “Where were you two, Cassie?”

“As Lia said, in the house.” For once, Cassie actually stayed quiet. I should celebrate this. Small victory.

Judd drew in a breath through his nose. “Go to bed. Ronnie will deal with you tomorrow.”

He turned, muttering as he went. I opened our door carefully, making sure not to wake Sloane. Cassie slipped in after me and shut it. I changed into pajamas and laid down, counting the minutes until someone finally woke up.

And the world moved again.

——————————☆——————————

Voices. I was on my feet before the last syllable faded.

Finally.

I didn’t even bother changing, I went straight to the kitchen. Michael and Dean were talking. Both fell silent the second they saw me—Michael turned his head away.

Whatever.

“Any sign of Judd?” I asked.

“Nope. Haven’t seen him since last night,” Dean said.

I grabbed a black bowl, got a spoon, opened the fridge. No milk.

“Really?” I groaned, putting everything back and hopping on the island, legs swinging.

“I’m gonna leave you two,” Dean said, heading toward the garage. Probably boxing.

Who the hell does boxing this early?

Michael started after him, but I stopped him.  “Michael.”

“What?” His tone was clipped.

“Why are you mad at me?”

“Why am I mad?” He looked at me properly for the first time. “Because you didn’t tell me that you were being stalked. You didn’t even trust me enough. That’s why.”

“I’m not sorry,” I snapped, “I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my business. I trust you—don’t act like I don’t. I was terrified for a week and you didn’t even notice. You’re supposed to be an emotion reader, for fuck’s sake, and you didn’t even notice.”

A tear slipped out. I wiped it away immediately. Like a reflex.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Michael’s face softened.

“Okay. Can we just—forget this? Start over? You’re fine. I’m fine. Deal?” His hand touched my shoulder lightly, softly, full of care.

“Sure.” I slid off the counter to hug him, but of course Judd had to walk in. With Agent Sterling. Ruining the moment.

Why can’t I have a moment to my self?

“What am I hearing about you and Cassie sneaking out?” Sterling’s voice was all business.

“We didn’t sneak out,” I said, confident. Steady.

“Where’s Cassie?” she asked.

“I’m here,” Cassie said, squinting against the light. “What’s happening?”

“Where were you two earlier?” Sterling asked.

“In the house,” Cassie blinked, finally opening her eyes properly.

Sterling’s ayes narrowed. “One more lie and I’ll put ankle monitors on both of you.”

“Fine, we were on the roof.” I rolled my eyes. An ankle monitor was not worth it.

“The roof? With a stalker obsessed with you?” Sterling snapped. “Do you realize how stupid that is? What was so important that you two had to go to the roof?”

“We were talking about makeup. Bags. Girl stuff.” I said with more confidence than I felt.

Like hell I was going to hand her the truth.

“You know what—whatever. We’ll deal with this later. Gather the others in the living room, ten minutes. We got the IT results back.” She looked at Michael, Cassie, then me, and left the kitchen before anyone could answer.

Chapter Text

You stare at her. At her eyes. In her soul. Sadie.

You’re the only one who truly knows you.

Every crack you try to hide, every weakness you pretend isn’t there.

She is on the roof. Sitting. Eating ice cream as if everything’s normal.

Waiting unknowingly like prey that hasn’t realized the hunter is already watching.

Trying to act brave, little Sadie?

Pretending your shaky legs can hold you steady?

Don’t tremble yet. Not now.

The game hasn’t even begun.

Your time is coming.

And when it does, you’ll wish you never did it.

Chapter Text

The kitchen door swung shut behind Sterling, leaving the hum of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the clock.

The sound felt louder than it should have been.

Cassie leaned against the counter, her face slightly bored. “Ankle monitors?” She rolled her eyes, half saying it to herself rather than me.

“She’s bluffing,” I tried to sound certain. But Sterling wasn’t bluffing—she was telling the truth.

Michael didn’t answer. He was still standing where Sterling had left him, looking out of the window above the sink.

With a snap, Michael blinked, looked down, and rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Sorry. Just thought I saw…” He trailed off, shaking his head like the thought wasn’t worth finishing.

“Maybe we should leave,” Cassie said sarcastically.

She’s starting to sound like Michael.

“Find a motel, disappear for a few days until this blows over.”

I stifled my laugh down my throat. “Leave? With Judd and Sterling tracking our every move? They’d hunt us down before the stalker even had the chance.”

But a part of me pictured it anyway: a highway at dawn, the windows down, a fun car ride. The thought felt dangerous.

Not that I care.

But leaving felt like admitting the stalker won. Maybe the better weapon was to make the house more like home—light the lamps, put on music, refuse to let the threat define us. Except threats don’t care about resolve.

The silence after that stretched too long. Every sound turned suspect—the fridge’s low whine, the steady tick of the clock. The house was alive.

And I couldn’t tell if it was with us or against us.

Finally, Michael broke it. “We should go to the living room. And find Dean and Sloane.” He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as us.

I slid off the counter. Cassie fell into step beside me, and together we followed him.

——————————☆——————————

In the living room, Sloane’s breathing was slow, steady—almost comforting, like a foreign language slipped into normal.

“I am going to find Dean,” she muttered as she stood up from the couch. Eager to leave the room.

No. I shouldn’t be scared. I am strong.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Sterling appeared in the doorway.

“Is everyone here?” she asked, her voice steady.

“No. Sloane’s going to find Dean,” I let the words fly.

“Did you know that 15.3% of people do boxing?” Sloane’s enthusiastic voice carried all across the room.

This made me smile internally. Like everything was normal. Sloane’s voice was always comforting—not that I’d show it.

Sloane and Dean stepped into the living room and settled down on the couch.

“Okay—now that you are all here,” Sterling continued, “we’ve gotten the IT results.”

My chest tightened.

“We traced the IP address to a location,” she told us, looking each of us in the eye. “But when we got there, the stalker was nowhere to be found.”

“Of course he wasn’t there. He thinks he’s smart—smarter than any of us.” My voice cracked. I was furious at him, but mostly I was mad at myself.

Of course it was my fault. It’s always my fault.

“We should go there, check it ourselves. Maybe we’ll spot something they missed,” Dean said confidently.

“It’s too risky,” Judd muttered.

“Judd, you know this might be our only lead. Plus we’re 18 now,” Michael argued.

“Judd, I think they’re right. We should take them, but they will be safe, I promise you. There will be guards all around.” Sterling’s voice turned firm.

Judd stared at the floor, weighing it. “I don’t know, Ronnie. I don’t like it.”

“You know I won’t let anything happen to them,” Sterling said. “I care about them as much as you do. Trust me.”

He exhaled slowly. “I do. That’s why—just this once—I’m letting this go.”

How did she convince him so easily? Never mind. The good thing was, we were going to the house.

——————————☆——————————

The drive there was silent.

Even Sloane’s usual chatter had gone quiet. My palms were sweaty.

Every turn of the road felt like we were driving deeper into something we couldn’t come back from.

When the van finally stopped, the house appeared ahead—black windows, grey walls. A single porch light flickered once and died, as though it knew we’d arrived.

As though it was waiting for us.

“Stay behind us,” Director Briggs ordered as he stepped out. His hand hovered near his gun but didn’t draw it. Sterling was already moving, approaching the house.

Cassie bumped into me as we climbed the porch steps. “Sorry,” she whispered, though her eyes never left the door.

Michael reached for my side. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his shoulder, close enough that if I leaned an inch I could rest against him. “Stay near me,” he said softly.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was a reassurance or a command.

Sterling pushed the door open. It creaked loudly.

“Clear,” one of the agents called from upstairs. Another echoed it from the back room.

But the house didn’t feel clear. The silence pressed in, heavy, like a held breath waiting to be released.

The living room was empty, except for a single chair facing the window. On the wall beside it, taped up in neat rows, were photographs. Dozens of them.

Cassie gasped. Sloane muttered something under her breath. My stomach dropped.

They were of us.

Of me.

Different angles, different times—walking from the car, sitting on the porch, eating in the kitchen, photos from the roof.

“Jesus,” Dean whispered.

Michael’s arm brushed mine as he stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. I caught my own reflection in one of the frames, pale and ghostlike.

“He was here,” Sterling said, voice low, tight. “Watching. Planning.”

Waiting.

Director Briggs’s jaw clenched. He turned away, muttering into his radio for the team outside.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Every photo was proof of how close he’d been—close enough to know the curve of my laugh, the tilt of my head, the way fear tightened my shoulders when I thought no one was watching.

He was.

He was watching me. Waiting for me.

Chapter Text

I stood, frozen in place as the sounds spiraled around me.

“Lia!” Micheal called out, his hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of daze. “Don’t. Don’t look at this.”

“No, I need to. And I will,” I said, walking forward to the pictures to touch them, feel them.

I reached to the wall, my eyes focusing on the picture that’s top right. It was me, standing in my room, deciding which personality I was going to wear in the shape of outfits.

Was I going to wear the black miniskirt with a white turtleneck and long, black boots paired with sarcasm, independence, and manipulation, or navy, skinny jeans with a graphic tee and combat boots with a side of nonchalance?

That photo couldn’t have been two weeks old—I remember the day clearly- the boredom, the insomnia, Laurel’s laugh when she visited, Micheal’s stupid jokes. Cassie and Sterling’s half-sister, Laurel, had visited us that day.

I looked so… free. No stalker hanging around my neck, my relationship with Micheal was great, no breath in the dark and no one tracing my steps.

“Lia!” Sterling motioned me to come over to her and the rest. “Sloane, check the photos carefully -without touching them excessively- to try and figure out what kind of material the UNSUB’s using,” she paused for a second to organize her world.

“And from that information, Cassie and Dean, update me with the profile you’ve made so far. Micheal, Lia. Sit tight. We haven’t gotten any audio or video surveillance so far,” She continued.

The second she finished, she turned around with a click of her heels and went to talk to another agent. Sloane left us soon after and went to look at the pictures. I followed her, not really knowing why I was doing it.

“This work has been taken by a phone. An iPhone to be exact,” Sloane muttered while looking closely at the photos.

“How did you know that it was taken by a phone? It could be a camera,” I asked.

“Phones have small sensors that gives a large depth of field, so most of the scene is in focus. And the bokeh is often computationally simulated, which lacks natural gradient and subtle details. In the other hand, photos taken by cameras have a natural shallow depth of field, with smooth, gradual bokeh. Fine textures retain natural micro-contrast without over sharpening-“ Sloane rattled off.

“Sloane— stop,“ I said. “I’ve never heard half of these words in my life. Explain this like I’m five,” I said, trying to keep up with all the things she was saying.

“Sure! Basically if the edges are very sharp, the colors look punchy, and the background blur looks artificial or uniform, it’s likely to be a phone. But, if the edges are naturally detailed, the colors are realistic, and the background blur is smooth and gradual, it’s more likely a proper camera,” she said.

“And how did you know it’s an iPhone?” I asked.

“iPhones often have minimal distortion, slightly rounded edges whereas Samsung has a wide-angle that exaggerates edges slightly. Google Pixel tends to correct distortion aggressively. These photos have a minimal amount of distortion so it’s more likely an iPhone,” she concluded, then went to inform Dean and Cassie of the what she ended up with.

“I hope you understood cause I didn’t understand a single thing,” a sound behind me said as two hands hit my shoulder.

I turned around and hissed, “Micheal!”I snapped. “I swear to God if you scare me again, I will hang you on a tree in the coldest night and leave you there overnight.”

“No, you wouldn’t. By the way you didn’t answer my question,” he replied, snaking his arm around my shoulders.

“Barley. What I’ve understood is that the photos of me are more probably taken by an iPhone,” I said, leaning into his touch.

He smiled, softly, warm- almost normal.

We stood like that for a couple of minutes, in front of the photos my stalker and potential murderer took of me.

Each print showed a misstep, a smile, a private moment turned public. Someone had been close enough to watch the way I chose my clothes, tied my hair. Close enough to know me.

The real me.

“Field trip’s over! Get over here,” Sterling called out for us. We walked towards her, leaving each other’s touch behind.

——————————☆——————————

The drive home was silent except for the rattle of the road under the tires.

Every time I blinked, I saw the wall of photographs—my own life pinned up like butterflies under glass.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, my chest felt tight, like I’d been holding my breath for hours.

Inside, the house was too quiet. Too normal. The lamps glowed warm, the air smelled faintly of coffee, but underneath it all was that itch—like someone had already been here.

No voices, no footsteps, only the tick of the clock on the wall like a countdown.

“Come on,” Micheal said softly, his hand brushing mine as he headed down the hall.

I followed him into his room. It was messy in the way only he and Dean could pull off: books stacked like uneven towers, clothes abandoned over the back of a chair. The familiar chaos was grounding. For a moment, I could almost pretend the world outside didn’t exist.

Almost.

I sank onto the edge of his bed, hands gripping the blanket, my mind spinning. “They were right there, Micheal. In my room. Taking pictures while I… while I didn’t even know. While I was just existing.”

I sat on his bed, clutching the blanket in my fists. “Micheal… he was in my room. Watching me. Photographing me while I was… while I was just existing.” My voice cracked. “It’s like I don’t belong to myself anymore.”

He knelt in front of me, his hands warm on my knees. “Look at me, Lia,” his tone was firm but soft enough to pull me back. “You do belong to yourself. Not to him. Not to his games. You’re still you—and he can’t take that away, no matter how many pictures he nails on a wall.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to lean into his certainty and forget the way those photographs made me feel—exposed, hunted. My voice wavered. “What if he’s outside right now? What if he knows where we are?”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering against my cheek. “Then he”ll have to go through me first.”

I felt my eyes blur with tears, and shook my head. “But what if tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow doesn’t matter,” he cut in, sharper than before. His hands slid up, cupping my face, steadying me like I was coming apart. “Right now matters. You’re here. With me. Breathing. Alive. And I swear on my life, I’ll keep it that way.”

The way he said it—like a vow, like a man standing at the edge of a battlefield—left no room for doubt. My breath hitched, and before I could think, I leaned into him, desperate to feel something other than fear.

The air between us shifted—thicker, heavier, charged with something that had been building for weeks. I could feel my pulse in my throat as his face drew closer.

“Lia…” he whispered.

His lips crashed into mine.

He kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, urgent, the kind of kiss that clung to the edges of fear and turned it into fire. I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him closer, drowning in the taste of him, the heat of him, until the world outside no longer existed.

His mouth moved against mine with the weight of everything we hadn’t said, everything we were too terrified to admit.

My hands slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, as if I could anchor myself in him and erase the world outside.

He deepened the kiss, one arm winding tight around my waist, the other holding the back of my head like he was afraid I’d shatter if he let go.

I could taste salt—my tears, his, maybe—but it didn’t matter. We kissed like we were running out of time.

When we finally broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, his breath hot and uneven. He whispered, “Even if tomorrow doesn’t come, Lia. Tonight, you’re safe. Tonight, you’re mine.”

I closed my eyes, letting the words settle in, heavier than the silence around us, heavier than the fear that still lingered.

For the first time, I felt alive again.

——————————☆——————————

I left his room reluctantly, immediately missing his touch, the warmth of his touch fading the second the door closed.

I went to the living room, where Cassie and Dean were working on their new profile.

“So, what’s the lovebirds’ final profile?” I teased, and immediately regretted not shutting up my mouth.

The words hung in the air like a bad joke.

“Look at who’s talking, Ms. I—Just—Hooked —Up—With—Micheal—Townsend,” Cassie rolled her eyes and completed working on the profile. Dean stifled a chuckle and mouthed ‘sorry not sorry’ to me.

I sat on the couch, swinging my legs over the couch arm, and grabbed the remote which was right next to my head. I switched on the TV and went straight to Hulu app.

“Ughhhhh. The new episode hasn’t come out yet,” I groaned and turned off the TV, “I swear this house has nothing to do. Want me to die of boredom?”

“I think you’d enjoy this, then.” Briggs said as he closed the front door.

“Here,” he threw me a flash drive, “We’ve found this flash drive with multiple audio recordings, probably directed to you. We’ve gone over it already, but the more times we check the better,” he added. He then went to the kitchen, where Judd was. Probably to tell him something useless to me.

Chapter Text

The look on her face when she saw the pictures was the best thing you’ve seen in ages.

You’ve been sending her messages, of course you would’ve taken photos of her. It’s pretty obvious in your point of view.

You take a step forward, waiting in anticipation for her to open the audio files. She’s in for a treat.

You can’t wait to wipe that smug look on her face when she listens to what you have to say.

Details of her life. Things that no one else knows except her… and now, you.

You suddenly duck under the fence, hoping that blonde girl didn’t see you. She’s observant.

Too observant for your taste.

She can’t see you. No one can.

And no one will.

Chapter Text

The flash drive sat next to my makeshift bed like it was watching me.

I stared at it for what felt like forever, arms wrapped around my knees, every nerve in my body buzzing.

Briggs wanted me to go over it with the others, but the thought of hearing whatever was on it—with them— made my skin crawl. This was personal.

Too personal.

So, when the house settled into silence, I slipped the flash drive into Micheal’s laptop and connected my earbuds to the laptop, trying not to wake Sloane and Cassie up.

The folder opened: Recordings. Dozens of files, each stamped with a date and time. My stomach knotted—he’d been cataloging me, organizing me like some sort of project.

I clicked the first file.

For a moment, nothing. Then a hiss of static, followed by the faint sound of breathing. Heavy. Uneven. Male.

Him.

“Sadie…” The voice dragged my name like it was something forbidden. “You looked perfect today. I liked you in the white shirt. You shouldn’t wear those boots, though. They make you look too hard. I don’t want hard. I want… soft.”

My whole body tensed. The voice was wrong—too close, too knowing. I pressed my hand over my mouth, but it didn’t stop the trembling in my chest.

Static again, then the whisper grew sharper, angrier.

“You smiled at Micheal. You let him touch you. You think he can protect you, but he won’t. He can’t. You’re mine, Sadie. Mine.”

The recording cut, leaving only the hum of the laptop fan and the pound of my heart in the silence.

I sat frozen, staring at the screen.

The next file waited, its timestamp glowing at me like an expired dare.

I clicked the second file.

My finger hovered for a split second too long, as if some part of me already knew I didn’t want to hear it. But the screen went black for a heartbeat, and then the hiss of static filled the room again.

Breathing. Slow. Intentional.

Almost like he wanted me to hear how close he’d been.

“You never lock your window,” the voice whispered. “Last night, I stood outside while you slept. You kept tossing and turning… bad dreams, maybe? I almost woke you, just to tell you I was there. Just to see your eyes snap open and realize you weren’t alone.”

My breath caught. My gaze shot to the window, curtains drawn, but suddenly too thin, too flimsy.

The voice chuckled softly, low and rasping. “You looked so small, curled up in that bed. Vulnerable. Pretty. I thought about knocking. I thought about climbing in. But not yet. Not yet. You’re not ready for me… and I’m not done watching.”

I slammed the laptop shut so hard the sound cracked through the room. Sloane tossed in her sleep, obviously disturbed by the loud sound I just caused. My hands shook while taking out my earbuds, my pulse wild in my ears. Then— the door.

A knock. The handle turned, the door cracked open.

I stumbled up from the mattress and pressed myself to the wall beside the window, eyes darting to the curtains like they might dissolve.

My mind spun —images, whispers, tapes, him— until I could barely see, barely hear.

I was lost. Wrecked. Like a ship dragging itself through black water, waving at nothing but a sea that wanted to swallow it whole.

Then—hands on my shoulders.

Warm. Solid. Micheal.

“Lia,” his voice, low and steady, cut through the panic. “I’m here. I won’t let him get to you. I promise. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He drew me into him, arms wrapping around me with a care I hadn’t let myself feel in weeks.

Not now.

Not when everything was falling apart. But this—this felt right. The only right thing in the chaos.

In the madness.

“Shhh. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered against my ear, rocking me gently back and forth until my shaking started to slow.

The warmth of his chest against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, anchored me back to the room.

“Micheal?” The word escaped in a faint breath, so soft even I barely heard it.

He tilted his head, eyes locking on mine. Eyes full of emotion, full of care. He nodded once, silent but certain.

“Thank you,” I managed, voice slow and faint.

Another nod. His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

I tried to stand on my own, but my legs gave nothing. Without hesitation, he swept me up, holding me as if I weighed nothing, as if I might break if he let go.

He laid me gently onto the mattress-turned-bed, pulling the blanket over me, his touch lingering a second too long.

“Good night, Lia,” he murmured as he started toward the door.

“Stay,” I whispered.

He stopped. Turned back. For a heartbeat the house was silent, the world held at bay just outside the window.

He didn’t hesitate after I asked. He crossed the room, getting to me. His weight sinking into the mattress as he sat beside me.

For a moment he just looked at me—like I was something fragile he’d been trusted to protect—then he slid under the blanket and pulled me into him.

His arms wrapped around me, firm and steady, holding me as if he could shield me from every shadow outside the window.

My head fit against his chest, where the rhythm of his heartbeat was steady, bringing me back to reality.

A strange one. A happy one.

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips brushing my hair. “You’re safe, Lia. Nothing’s getting past me. Not tonight. Not ever.”

I closed my eyes, letting the sound of his voice sink into me. “I promise,” Every word anchored me deeper into him, drowning out the memory of the stalker’s voice on the recordings.

“You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again. I swear it,” he murmured, rocking me gently, as if my shaking had never stopped.

“Breathe with me. That’s it. Good. I’m not going anywhere.”

His warmth seeped into me, melting the last of the panic until all that was left was exhaustion.

My body grew heavier, pressed tighter against him. His fingers traced slow, calming circles along my back, his breath warm against my ear.

“You’re safe. Always safe with me,” he whispered one last time.

And with those words, I finally let go.

Sleep pulled me under, and even in my dreams, Micheal’s arms never loosened.

-——————————☆——————————-                        

Sunlight was spilling through the curtains in soft stripes.

For the first time in weeks, I hadn’t bolted awake from a nightmare. I shifted, and that’s when I felt it—Micheal’s arm draped across my waist, heavy and warm, his chest rising and falling against my back.

For a moment, I just laid there, listening to his steady breathing. Staring at my roommates, deep in their slumber.

The world outside—the flash drive, the photos, the whispers in the dark—felt far away.

Here, this moment—this morning—in this room, there was only him and the warmth of his body wrapped around mine.

Well and Sloane’s loud snoring.

I turned slightly, careful not to wake him, and saw his face relaxed in sleep. No lines of worry, no sharp tension. Just Micheal—peaceful, steady and real.

A smile appeared on my lips before I could stop it. I brushed my fingers lightly against his hand, the one resting on me, and whispered so quietly even I barely heard it: “Thank you.”

He stirred, mumbling something incoherent, then pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed I could be okay.

At least for now.

Chapter Text

Cassie’s staring is starting to really get to me.

Can’t she just stop? I swear it’s like she’s the stalker, not whoever it is.

I dig my spoon into my bowl, and take a big spoonful of the Lucky Charms cereal Judd had bought yesterday.

“Why was Micheal in the room when I woke up?” Cassie asked, pushing back her chair.

“You know what? I don’t even want to know,” she mutters when she catches the look on my face, she shook her head and left it be.

I finished my bowl in silence, trying to forget everything about all the emotions Micheal saw yesterday.

I can’t believe I showed this much emotion.

I cant believe I let myself crack.

And with Cassie and Sloane in the room, plus the emotion reader. I need to get myself back together. No more crying, no more worrying.

No more vulnerability.

I keep saying ‘Sadie is gone’ and ‘Sadie is gone’, but in reality, she can’t leave. A ghost inside me I can’t quite bury.

But she also can’t stay.

So from now on, she’s going to be the tiny part in me that I’ll use rarely.

Wow, a great, emotional, little speech you got there, Lia.

——————————☆——————————

I need a distraction.

A game: who’s the liar.

If I can’t drag him into the light yet. The least i can do is to get this stalker out of my mind.

I pull a stack of the old files from the bookshelves, searching for a one I haven’t read yet. I grab a yellow file that seemed suspicious -well not really, I just felt like it did- and opened the first transcript.

“Oh, a female serial killer called Soraya Charleston,” I said out loud, taking advantage of the empty room that I had to myself.

Fun.

“Soraya Charleston was a British serial killer from the 1990s to the early 2000s. Soraya was born and raised in the UK, but moved to the US in the 80s. She killed 20 individuals; 14 males, 6 females. She was arrested in 2003 after a grocery store owner reported that he saw her kidnap a woman, who unfortunately did not survive due to multiple stab wounds to the chest. Her MO: stabbing and hanging her dead victims in an abandoned museum. All the victims were in their 20s. Her story is interesting to say the least,” Sloane said as she got up from the couch behind me.

Guess I wasn’t alone in the room.

Sloane stared at the file for a moment, the with uniformed steps, got out as quietly as she entered—like she was never there at all.

I sit down, the file heavy in my hands, and read the first transcript.

Case: Serial Homicide – Soraya Charleston

FBI File #: 08‑4357

Date: 2003‑08‑26

Time: 21:12 – 22:35

Location: FBI Field Office — Interview Room 1

Interviewer: SSA Lacey Locke

Participants: Soraya Anne Charleston (Suspect), SSA Lacey Locke (Lead), SSA Killian Jones (Observer)

Recording: Video & Audio – Transcript prepared by Agent S. Sam

[21:12:03]

SSA Locke: Good evening, Ms. Charleston. You understand why you’re here?

Soraya Charleston: (calm) I can guess. About the girl I allegedly kidnapped? Well I didn’t. I was helping her find her way back home.

[21:12:18 – Suspect glances at door and smiles faintly]

SSA Locke: You were seen on CCTV forcing her into your car. That’s not alleged, that’s a fact.

Soraya Charleston: Well, CCTV cameras are not the best in this area as you might as well know. All I was doing was (shrugs) giving her a ride, that’s all.

[21:12:42 – Suspect avoids eye contact, fixates briefly on the ceiling camera, pupils dilating]

SSA Jones: Ms. Charleston, your fingerprints were found in the last three murder scenes. Care to elaborate?

[21:13:05 – Suspect puts right hand on table tapping her nails in a slow, deliberate rhythm]

SSA Locke: 20 victims were found stabbed and hanged at the old National Museum. 14 males, 6 females, all in their twenties. What were you doing to them?

Soraya Charleston: (smiles faintly, voice lower than before, almost tender)

They… (sighs). They needed peace. They couldn’t leave this world alone. In Jane’s journal, she kept writing over and over “I want to die”.

[21:13:50 – Long pause; Suspect leans back in chair, crosses legs]

SSA Locke: These were real people. They had friends. Families. Lives. What did they do that was so bad you had to kill them?

Soraya Charleston: (taking sharp breath then calm down)

I didn’t do a thing. I didn’t kill them. They were miserable. Had alcoholic siblings, absent parents, oh and loads of college work. So I killed them, to relive them from this torture.

[21:14:22 – Suspect tilts head, eyes unfocused]

SSA Jones: So you admit you killed them?

Soraya Charleston: (nods slightly) Yes. But only when it was necessary.

[21:14:40 – Note: Suspect’s breathing deliberate, deep, audible, measured like someone counting]

SSA Locke: Any final confession about the 20 deaths you caused?

Soraya Charleston: (quietly, almost whispering, as if savoring a secret):

I enjoyed it. Every single moment. Watching their last breath. The sound they make when their lungs collapse… unforgettable. Seeing their soul leave their body. I killed them. I killed them all.

[21:15:12 – Suspect leans forward, calm tone]

SSA Locke: This is your chance to confess everything. From the beginning, to the end.

Soraya Charleston: (smiles faintly) If you insist…

Not a single lie.

Either my ability has gone down hill, or that delusional psychopath actually believes that she “helped” them move on from this life.

Seeing Locke’s name brought back some memories. She was a psycho, yes, but she was the first female to ever get me. But then she might’ve just got me because I’m probably a psychopath too.

“Lia. What are you reading?” Dean asked as he stepped in, his voice as calm as usual.

“The usual. Old transcripts of serial killers, psychopaths, narcissists…etc. This woman I was just reading about, killed 20 people and believes she was helping them. I swear psychopaths are always believing that they’re helping others,” I said, closing the file and tossing it on the table in front of me.

“Cool. Judd told me to come get you to eat lunch, his famous pesto sandwiches,” Dean said.

I jumped up, and immediately thought of those delicious, chewy, pesto sandwiches Judd makes. It’s one of his specialties, he says.

“Finally. I’m starving,” I said as I followed, and closed the door on the way out.

Chapter Text

After lunch, I sat on the couch, my mind spinning, thoughts of Michael and me in my bed. He was staring—his eyes burning straight into my soul—until the door creaked open.

“Okay, Lia. I need you to tell me the names of people from your past who might be after you. From the cult, maybe?” Agent Sterling’s voice cut through the room as she stepped inside.

My heart hammered so hard I could hear it in my ears. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t want to be.

It took a long moment before I could force the words out. “Okay, but I don’t think it will help,”  I said, trying to make her stop before she went deeper.

But this was Agent Sterling. Of course she would push.

“Lia, I need you to be completely honest with me. Every single person who might want you dead—this is serious,” Her eyes locked on mine, hard as steel.

Every gaze in the room turned on me, tearing at my soul.

Every piece of me wanted to vanish. To escape.

“If it would make you more comfortable, they can leave. We can talk somewhere private,” she added, her voice softening just enough.

I couldn’t let them know Sadie’s past—my past.

Because Sadie was gone. Dead after she killed to escape. Dead after she pretended. Dead after she became someone else.

“Yes… thank you,” I murmured, trying to sound steady, even as Michael’s laser eyes burned holes through me while he left the room with the others.

The door shut behind them.

Agent Sterling pulled out a chair and sat across from me, her notebook already open, pen ready. “You can start whenever you’re ready,” she said, her tone calm but sharp around the edges.

I stared at the floor, tracing the cracks in the wooden boards.

Start? Where do you even start when your whole life is built on lies?

“There was a man,” I finally said. My voice didn’t even sound like mine, “He called himself Father Victor.”

Sterling’s pen froze mid-scratch. “Leader?”

I nodded. “He.. he said he could see through us. Into us. Like we were glass.”

Her jaw tightened. “And is he still alive?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. I hope not.

“Last name?” She asked, hoping I would know.

“Volkov,” I whispered. The word alone felt like poison. “Victor Volkov.”

Her expression didn’t move, but her eyes flickered with recognition—like she’d heard that name before. “Tell me about him.”

“He wasn’t just a leader. He made people believe he was… chosen. He said pain was the only way to purify the soul,”My voice trembled despite myself.

“And his wife -Serine Volkov- she made us believe she could see the future. They played God together.”

Sterling leaned forward slightly, “Did Serine ever hurt you?”

She didn’t ask the right question. She was’t the one who hurt me.

I shook my head slowly. “Not with her hands. But she knew how to make you break without touching you.”

The air between us thickened. The hum of the light above sounded louder than it should have.

“She told me once,” I said, “that if I ever left, Victor would find me. That he would know the second I tried to change my name.”

Sterling’s pen scratched across the page. Then—she stopped. Her eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” I asked.

She didn’t answer. The sound came again—faint, from somewhere near the front door.

Three knocks.

A pause.

Then one more.

The same pattern Victor used before he entered my room.

I froze. My breath caught halfway in my throat.

Sterling’s hand slid to her gun. “Stay here,” she whispered.

But I already knew—

it was too late.

——————————☆——————————

The sound echoed through the room, sharp and deliberate.

Three knocks.

A pause.

Then one more.

My breath hitched, and suddenly I wasn’t in that room anymore.

——————————☆——————————

The light around me dimmed, melting into orange candle glow. Smoke. Whispered prayers. The heavy scent of burning sage and metal.

I was back in the church basement.

“Sadie,” Victor’s voice coiled through the air, smooth and dangerous. He stood at the altar—barefoot, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hands painted red with ritual ink. His eyes gleamed the same way they always did when he believed he’d broken someone.

“You’ve disappointed me again,” he said softly. “You tried to run.”

I couldn’t speak. My tongue felt stitched to the roof of my mouth.

Behind him, Serine appeared—her black hair braided tight, her long dress swaying against the stone floor. She moved like smoke. Her eyes -cold, silver- never blinked.

“Let her speak, Victor,” Serine murmured. “It’s more interesting when they try to lie.”

Victor smiled, slow and cruel. “You see, my dear, she can’t. She knows the truth burns on the way out.”

He reached for my face, and even though I wanted to flinch, I couldn’t. His thumb brushed a streak of dirt from my cheek, gentle, like a lover. “We gave you a name, a family, a purpose. And you repay us with betrayal.”

“I just wanted to be free,” I whispered, barely hearing my own voice.

Serine tilted her head, studying me like I was something she’d already seen die. “Freedom doesn’t exist, child. Only belonging.”

Victor’s hand tightened around my jaw until I could taste blood. “You belong to us,” he said. “You always will.”

——————————☆——————————

The sound of his words echoed -You always will- until it wasn’t his voice anymore.

It was Agent Sterling’s.

“Lia!”

I blinked hard, the basement gone, the candles gone. I was back in the living room, shaking. Sterling’s hand was shaking my shoulder.

“You were gone,” she said quietly. “You stopped breathing for a second.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse thundering in my ears.

Then we both heard it again.

Three knocks.

A pause.

One more.

This time, closer.

The air in the room felt heavier now, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Sterling moved toward the door slowly, gun drawn, her steps careful and deliberate. I wanted to tell her not to. To leave it. To pretend we hadn’t heard. But my voice wouldn’t come out.

Another beat of silence.

Then—she turned the handle.

The door creaked open.

Cold night air slipped inside, brushing against my skin like fingers. The porch light flickered once, then steadied.

There was no one there.

No sound.

No movement.

Just the wind.

Sterling scanned the yard, her eyes sharp, the gun never lowering. “Nothing,” she murmured, stepping out onto the porch.

I stayed frozen on the couch, staring past her at the open doorway. The darkness outside looked too still. Too watching.

“Maybe it was the wind,” I said, though my voice sounded empty, wrong.

She shook her head. “That wasn’t the wind. That was a pattern. Someone wanted you to hear it.”

She turned to close the door, but something stopped her.

Pinned to the outside of the wood—so small it almost went unnoticed—was a folded piece of paper.

My stomach dropped.

Sterling pulled it free carefully, unfolding it under the porch light. Her eyes flicked over the words, and the color drained from her face.

She looked at me. “Lia.”

I stood, trying not to be scared. Not to bring Sadie back.

She handed it to me.

The paper crumbled between my fingers as I read the single sentence scrawled in black ink:

            You can never escape me.

Chapter Text

The paper suddenly got on flames, burning my fingertips.

Oh shit.

“I’m going to make some calls, okay?” Sterling said quickly, and left the room—leaving the door slightly open.

The others spilled in, all eyes glued on me, wondering what happened.

“What happened?” Cassie asked.

“Oh nothing. Just the stalker knocking on our front door and leaving a note,” I said flatly, brushing past her.

Dean followed me out, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Not really. But I haven’t been for long,” I said, shaking his hand off and walking away.

——————————☆——————————

Cassie’s alarm clock screamed through the quiet morning, not stopping for a minute.

“Cassie! Turn that dang thing off,” I groaned, burying my head into the pillow.

She yawned, silenced it, and shuffled off toward the bathroom.

I dragged myself up, on the floor, shivering as the cold air hit my skin. I nearly walked outside, but then swerved last minute and headed towards the wardrobe.

No, not again.

I could feel his eyes, even if they weren’t there.

I don’t want that creep to see my body.

The stalker could be watching right now. Camera. Lens. Waiting.

Standing, thinking.

I shook my head, and opened the wardrobe. I tugged on a white, fitted shirt and took out a random pair of pants. I dressed quickly, then took out a black, leather jacket.

Quick, Simple, Safe.

Just as I shut the wardrobe, Cassie walked in. She whispered, careful not to wake up Sloane, “Did I really take that long or did you dress in two seconds?”

I shrugged and slipped past her, heading downstairs. I entered the kitchen, expecting Sterling. As usual, I was right. She was pouring herself coffee— sharp, efficient, unbothered as ever.

“Good, you’re up. We need to leave in an hour, so get Micheal to get ready and eat breakfast,” Sterling said as she poured coffee into her mug.

Last night, she arranged an interview with Viktor and his wife. Michael and I would be behind the mirror, watching..

Without a word, I went upstairs to wake Michael up. As usual, Dean’s bed was empty— he’d been getting up early lately to train exercise. Michael, however, was buried under his duvet, dead to the world.

I flicked the lights on, and stood by the bed, waiting for Michael to wake up.

“Lia, I know it’s you,” he mumbled, and pulled the blanket tighter over his shoulder.

“Agent Ronnie is finally taking us to the amusement park,” I said, and marched over to pull off the duvet cover. The second I reached for the duvet, Michael tugged it -and me-forward. I stumbled, landing on his chest.

“You didn’t think you could just grab it, did you?” he teased, lips brushing mine before I could respond. I gasped, and pulled him closer. The harder I kissed him, the harder he returned. I savored his touch, his taste, him.

I wish I can just stay like this. For eternity.

The second I pulled away, my lips ached for him—missing his touch. I stood and helped him get up, as if nothing had happened.

“What did you mean with ‘amusement park’?” He asked, searching his drawer.

“We’re interviewing the psycho cult leader and his wife, remember?” I replied.

“Oh, right, fun. I’m going to be down in a minute,” he said as he picked up a shirt.

“I’m going to the kitchen.” I rolled my eyes and left.

——————————☆—————————-

I couldn’t sit still. Not when the person who haunted my dreams was about to be in view.  Sterling was the one interviewing Viktor, so Agent Starmans was the one supervising me and Michael.

The air in the observation room felt heavy, pressing on my chest.

I heard it before I saw it, my stomach twisted, the door opened. Sterling walked in first. Then him.

Victor Volkov.

Suddenly, I was back in that hole again. The hole where I was left with no food or water. Forgotten.

“Good morning, Mr. Viktor,” Sterling’s calming voice snapped me back into reality.

“Good morning,” Victor replied. “May I ask, what’s all of this about?”

“It’s regarding a recent incident, that may involve you or one of your members,” Sterling said smoothly, with perfect poise.

“Look,” Michael leaned forward beside me, pointing at Viktor’s face, “See how his nose slightly flared? That’s anxiety. He’s worried.”

“Shoot away. I have nothing to hide,” Viktor said lightly.

“That’s a lie,” I spoke into the earpiece I was given. He was too confident, too welcoming.

“Where were you last night around 9pm?” Sterling asked, leaning forward a little.

“At home, with my wife, Serine. You can ask her if you want,” he said.

“We’ll check up on that,” Sterling nodded. “Does the name Sadie mean anything to you?”

“Jumping straight into the deep end,” Michael remarked under his breath.

“Sadie?” He tilled his head slightly. “Now that I think of it, it does. She used to be a member— she left 6 years ago,” Viktor said, his voice unwavering.

“He’s annoyed,” Michael murmured. “Annoyed that you’re mentioned. Annoyed that you left. That you escaped,”he completed, pulling a chair for me to sit beside him. Reluctantly, I sat.

“And her mother?” Sterling asked.

I drew in a sharp breath, and exhaled.

“June?” Victor smiled faintly, “She’s thriving. One of our best members,” he said, his body never moving. 

“He’s lying,” I said softly. “About the thriving part,” I said to Agent Sterling. I didn’t acknowledge the ‘one of the best members’ part. I didn’t have to.

Sterling gave a tight nod. “That’s all the questions we have. You’re free to go.”

Viktor rose up from his chair, still smiling, as an agent moved to escort him.

But instead of leaving, he turned back toward Sterling.

My chest tightened.

“One question, Agent Sterling,” he said, tone soft but cutting. “Do you believe in redemption?”

Sterling hesitated, then said, “That’s not relevant to our—”

“Because some people,” he continued, gaze flicking to the two-way mirror, “can run from their pasts all they want, but it always finds them again.”

My blood turned to ice.

Michael froze beside me. “Did he just—“

“Stay quiet,” Agent Starmans warned through clenched teeth.

Viktor smiled faintly, then finally turned for the door. “Tell Sadie I said hello,” he said as he walked out.

The door shut. The room felt smaller.

Sterling’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Lia. Michael. Debrief. Now.”

I couldn’t move. His words still echoed in my head.

He knew.

Chapter Text

His words wouldn’t stop ringing in my head. Tell Sadie I said hello.

The hallway lights flickered as we walked out of the observation room, the hum of the building too loud, too alive.

Michael tried to talk -I saw his lips move— but all I could hear was Viktor’s voice, soft and certain.

He wasn’t guessing. He knew.

Sterling’s office door slammed open before we could knock. “You two,” she said sharply, “inside. Now.”

Agent Starmans was already there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His jaw was tight — too tight for someone who’d just supervised a “routine interview.”

“What the hell happened in there?” Sterling demanded.

“He knew,” I blurted out before Michael could answer. “He looked right at me. Through the glass.”

“That’s impossible,” Sterling said, but the way her eyes flicked toward Starmans told me she didn’t fully believe her own words.

Michael rubbed his temple. “Maybe he recognized her voice from somewhere. Or—”

“No,” I cut him off. “It wasn’t just recognition. It was personal.”

Silence.

Sterling exhaled, sitting down behind her desk. “We’re moving forward with Serine’s interview next. You’ll both stay out of sight until we hear what she says.”

Serine Volkov. The wife. The enabler. The one who smiled through every headline photo.

I nodded, but the chill in my chest wouldn’t fade.

Because Viktor hadn’t looked through the glass like he was searching for me.

He looked like he was remembering me.

——————————☆——————————

Sterling’s phone buzzed. She frowned, checked the screen, then stood abruptly. “I need to take this,” she said. “Stay here. Don’t touch anything.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Michael and me alone.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. The silence pressed in like a weight.

Then Michael turned toward me, his voice low. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

My eyes were locked on the wall, on the faint reflection in the glass—where Viktor had been sitting not even an hour ago.

“Lia.” His tone firmed. “He can’t get to you. Not here.”

I finally looked at him. “You didn’t see how he looked at me. He knew, Michael. He knew who I was. What I did.”

Michael shook his head and stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You survived him. That’s what you did. Whatever he thinks he knows, it doesn’t matter. He’s the one who is behind locked doors. You’re not.”

I wanted to believe him, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “He said June’s name, my mother’s name,” I whispered. “He wanted me to hear it.”

Michael hesitated, then reached out -slow, deliberate- and took my hand. “He wanted to scare you. That’s all he has left. Fear. Don’t give it to him.”

For a second, I almost laughed at the irony—me, scared of someone trapped behind reinforced glass and armed guards. But I couldn’t.

Instead, I leaned into his touch. His hand was warm. Steady. Real.

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Michael said. “Not while I’m here.”

That last part shouldn’t have meant so much.

But it did.

Maybe because he said it like a promise.

The door opened suddenly, and Sterling walked back in, all business again. “Alright,” she said, tossing a file on the desk. “Serine Volkov is ready.”

I stepped back from Michael, pretending to straighten my jacket.

But his hand brushed mine as he passed—a quiet reminder that I wasn’t alone.

——————————☆——————————

We followed Sterling down the hall to the next observation room.

Through the glass, I saw her. Serine Volkov sat perfectly still at the table—composed, delicate, her hair pinned in a smooth twist that didn’t move an inch.

Her posture was flawless—her hands folded neatly in front of her.

If Viktor radiated power, Serine radiated control.

Sterling entered the room, the click of her heels sharp against the tile, deafening in the silence. “Mrs. Volkov,” she greeted. “Thank you for coming.”

Serine smiled — faintly, politely. “It’s not like I had a choice.”

Michael leaned closer to the glass. “She’s playing the cooperative act,” he murmured. “That’s her armor.”

I nodded, unable to look away. Something about her calm made my stomach twist.

Sterling sat across from her, flipping open the file. “We spoke with your husband earlier. He confirmed you were both home last night around nine. Can you verify that?”

Serine tilted her head slightly, eyes bright and unreadable. “Of course. We were having dinner. Lentil soup, I believe. Viktor spilled some on his sleeve.”

“She’s rehearsed this,” I said into the earpiece.

“Keep observing. Don’t engage yet,”Agent Starmans warned me.

Sterling’s pen tapped once against the folder. “Do you know a female named Sadie?”

“For a fraction of a second, Serine’s eyes flickered — a tiny crack in her calm,” Michael observed.

“Sadie…” she repeated, drawing out the name like she was testing how it tasted. “Oh yes, I remember her. Sweet girl. Always eager to please.”

Michael frowned. “Did you see that? The pause before she spoke?”

“She’s lying,” I whispered. “She remembered me too fast—then pretended she didn’t.”

Sterling leaned in slightly. “And her mother, June?”

That got a reaction. Serine’s smile thinned. “June is devoted. Always has been. I can’t imagine her having anything to do with this… unfortunate mess.”

“She’s deflecting,” Michael said.

But I could barely hear him. My heart was pounding again, louder than his voice, louder than Sterling’s calm questions.

Because Serine’s gaze had shifted — not toward Sterling, not toward the door, but toward the mirror.

Towards me.

Right where I was standing.

And she smiled. Slow. Knowing.

My breath caught in my throat. “Michael…”

“I see it,” he whispered.

Sterling kept her composure, though I saw her posture stiffen slightly. “Mrs. Volkov, do you know why you’re here today?”

“Oh, I think I do,” Serine said softly, still looking toward the glass. “You’re trying to understand something that can’t be understood. You think you can trap it in reports, in interviews, in mirrors.”

She tilted her head, her expression gentle—almost maternal. “But you can’t keep ghosts in cages, Agent Sterling.”

My knees went weak. I took a step back from the glass.

Michael reached out, catching my arm. “Lia—”

Her voice cut through the intercom again. “Tell her,” Serine whispered, “that I said hello.”

The room went silent. Even Sterling -the confident, strong, ‘nothing can stop me’ woman- froze.

I felt my pulse stop, then start again—sharp, heavy, wrong.

“She can’t see me,” I whispered, voice shaking. “She can’t see me—”

But she smiled wider, as if she could hear me.