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Raven's POV
My door was open.
Even though I know I shut it.
But I didn't need a key to open it this time.
I froze in the doorway.
Something felt... wrong.
I definitely closed this door, I thought, stepping inside cautiously.
The lights were still off-exactly how I left them. But the air? It was warmer. Like someone had been here. Too long.
My fingers instinctively reached for the knife tucked in the side pocket of my laptop bag, pulse thumping hard in my ears.
Maybe I was just being paranoid again. Maybe it was stress, exhaustion... or maybe it was all in my head.
Except... my security system would've alerted me. Right?
Then I saw it.
A faint indentation on the hallway rug.
Heavy boots.
My stomach dropped.
I didn't breathe. I just moved.
Silent steps down the hall. Dropped my bag to the floor without a sound. My bedroom door stood slightly ajar.
Gripping the knife tighter, I pushed it open-ready to attack.
But... no one.
Still, something was off.
I flipped on the lights.
The bed sheets were a mess. My window-wide open. I always locked it before leaving.
Then I saw it.
On my bedside table.
A note.
A flower.
And a bar of chocolate.
Belgian. Fancy. Expensive as hell.
My fingers trembled as I picked up the note.
> "Your bed was so comfortable, Little Storm.
I should drop by more often."
I spun around, checking every corner. Bathroom. Closet. Under the bed. Nothing.
Empty.
But my heart? Absolutely not.
I bolted into the second room, slammed my palm on the scanner, and dove toward my custom security rig as the door hissed shut behind me.
Every camera feed: clean.
No alerts.
No footage.
No trace.
"How the hell..." I whispered, pacing.
Was he some kind of serial killer ? A psychopath? Or just someone who underestimated me?
My phone chimed.
I jumped.
It was a message.
Same unknown number I'd been trying-and failing-to trace for weeks.
> "Do you like your gift, Little Storm?
Hands down, that bed was comfy as hell."
My blood turned to ice.
I typed back furiously:
Who are you? Why were you in my house? I'll tell the police, so don't you dare come back.
Sent.
Seconds later:
> "You ask too many questions, Little Storm.
And call the police? Don't make me laugh.
You and I both know...
You don't trust them.
And if you were to find me, it'll be you.
I know you're tracking my number.
But we both know it's a dead end "
My chest tightened.
I bit my lip, replying fast:
No, you don't know me. Don't come near me again. Not trusting the police doesn't mean they won't protect me.
I slumped into my chair, fingers flying across the keys. My system tried tracing the number again-no luck. Whoever this was, they were good. Very good.
But I was better.
Maybe he didn't know I was a hacker. Maybe he thought I was just some fragile girl.
Big mistake.
I opened my hacking site and flicked on my burner line. Business requests poured in-dozens. I picked three to distract myself.
First: A $2 million contract to track a trafficking ring-high-level, probably mafia or cartel.
Second: A high school girl being blackmailed-handled it in under fifteen minutes.
Third: Exposing a corrupt startup draining crypto wallets-done and dusted.
Now it was just me and the $2M job.
A brutal one-tracking bases holding trafficked women and children. It took me two full hours, but I found them. Clean, precise, and quiet.
Before shutting down for the night, I did a quick sweep of Vortex's system. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Finally, I locked the lab door behind me and headed to my room.
A cold shower.
Popcorn.
And the anime I'd been meaning to try-Black Clover.
I curled on the couch, creamy popcorn in my lap, volume low. Episode two was just getting interesting when I paused it.
I couldn't focus.
Every creak outside my window made me sit up straighter. Every flicker of light made my skin crawl.
And the worst part?
I hadn't told anyone.
Not a soul.
And maybe... that was dangerous. Maybe staying silent made me easy prey.
Maybe I should tell someone-anyone. Reduce my chances of ending up in a body bag.
My mind flicked to him.
The arrogant 6'5 biker I met the first day of work. The one who nearly ran me off the road.
Dante.
I hated how often I thought of him. How his eyes always seemed to look through me, not at me. Like he could tell I was hiding something. Like he wanted to know all my layers.
I curled deeper into the couch.
My phone buzzed.
I jumped.
I expected... him.
The stalker.
But it wasn't.
It was Dan.
> U good? Just checking in. I owe u dinner, remember?
I smiled faintly, thumbs typing out a lie.
Yeah, I'm fine. Just working.
Another ping.
> U sure? U always text dry when something's up.
I sighed.
Before I could reply, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then held steady.
"What the hell..." I muttered.
I didn't move to check the fuse box.
Didn't move at all.
I just sat there. Frozen. Watching the shadows creep outside my window.
And then...
Another message.
From Stalker.
> "I'm gonna have fun making you mine, Little Storm."