Elena didn't know why she kept looking over her shoulder.
Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was the lingering memory of that man's eyes in the alley—like they were tattooed into the back of her mind.
Whatever it was, it was making her coffee taste like static.
She walked into the bookstore she worked at—The Dusty Page. The bell chimed softly overhead.
"Morning, Elena," Grace, her co-worker, smiled from behind the counter.
"Hey," Elena replied, forcing a smile. "Slow morning?"
"The usual. A few weirdos and an old man asking for witchcraft books." Grace laughed, then tilted her head. "You okay? You look... on edge."
"I'm fine," Elena lied. "Just didn't sleep well."
She felt it again. That chill crawling across her skin like someone had whispered her name just outside the window.
She brushed it off, grabbed a stack of newly delivered books, and disappeared into the back shelves.
But someone was watching.
From across the street. Behind tinted glass.
---
🖤 Luca
She looked even softer in daylight.
That bookstore was hers for now—her little bubble of safety. He would let her have it. For now.
But it wouldn't last.
He had sent someone inside the day before. Not to touch her. Just to look. To see her up close. To breathe the same air she did.
He had her schedule. Her apartment address. Her parents' names.
He wasn't in a rush.
But she was already his.
She just didn't know it yet.
---