Leona hadn't stopped thinking about the text.
Sweet dreams, princess.
Her phone lay facedown on the desk, the glow of the notification bar long gone but branded into her skull. She kept telling herself not to look at it again, not to feed into his game. But she could feel the weight of it there, like a hot coal pressed against her skin.
Zac Moreno had her number.
She hadn't given it to him, hadn't given him anything at all. And still, somehow, he had reached into the one space that was supposed to be hers. Her room. Her phone. Her privacy.
It felt like a violation.
By midnight, her homework sat untouched, her activist rally notes abandoned in a heap. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the phantom echo of his voice in the quad earlier that day. The crowd's laughter. The heat of his breath near her ear. The way her pulse had spiked when his hand had grazed her arm.
She hated him. God, she hated him.
But hate didn't explain why she couldn't stop replaying every second.
Her dorm was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every creak of the old radiator sound like footsteps. Her roommate had gone home for the weekend, leaving Leona with an empty space that felt cavernous, too still, too vulnerable.
Every time a car engine roared outside, her body tensed. Every time the pipes rattled, her mind flashed to Zac's smirk.
By one a.m., she'd had enough. She shoved back her blankets, padded to the desk, and flipped her laptop open again, desperate for distraction. But her phone lit up the second she touched the trackpad.
Another text. Same unknown number.
Unknown: You up?
Her breath caught. Her fingers trembled over the screen, not from fear exactly, but from the furious thrum of adrenaline shooting through her veins.
She typed before she could stop herself.
Leona: Stop texting me.
Her thumb hovered, then hit send. A spike of regret followed immediately, but it was too late. The message was gone, delivered.
The reply came instantly.
Unknown: So you do talk.
Leona slammed her phone face down again, heart hammering in her chest. This was stupid. She was letting him win. That was exactly what he wanted for her to react, to play his game.
But then the phone buzzed again.
Unknown: Don't worry, princess. I'm not outside your door.
Her stomach twisted. She hadn't even thought about him being outside her door until that moment, and now she couldn't un-think it.
She got up, double-checked the lock, and pressed her back against the door for good measure. Her breath came shallow, uneven.
Another buzz.
Unknown: Look out the window.
Leona froze. Her dorm was on the second floor, facing the campus courtyard. Rationally, she knew it was impossible for anyone to be there. No ladder, no balcony, no easy way up. But still, her body wouldn't move.
The phone buzzed again.
Unknown: Don't be scared. Just look.
Her throat went dry. She told herself not to do it, not to give him the satisfaction, not to play along. But her feet betrayed her. Slowly, as though dragged by invisible strings, she crossed the room and reached for the curtains.
Her hands shook as she pulled them apart.
The courtyard below lay empty, bathed in the pale wash of the lampposts. A lone bike leaned against the fountain, but no figure stood beneath her window. No shadow moved in the grass.
And then—
The roar of an engine split the silence.
Leona jerked back as a black bike shot through the courtyard, its headlights cutting across the brick and stone like a predator's gaze. The rider didn't stop, didn't slow down. But as he passed, he tilted his head up, just enough for her to catch the gleam of his eyes beneath the streetlight.
Zac.
The bike vanished down the road, the echo of the engine rattling through her chest long after he was gone.
Her phone buzzed one last time.
Unknown: Told you. Sweet dreams, princess.
Her knees gave out, and she sank onto the edge of her bed, clutching her phone like it was something alive, something dangerous. She wanted to throw it across the room. She wanted to scream. But all she could do was sit there, pulse pounding in her ears, knowing deep down that this was only the beginning.
The next morning, she forced herself into routine. Wash face, brush teeth, shove books into her bag. Pretend she hadn't spent the night staring at the ceiling with her heart trying to claw its way out of her chest. Pretend that Zac's voice wasn't still echoing inside her skull.
She met Alex outside the cafeteria, his face drawn and sleepless.
"You didn't answer my texts last night," he said, worry lines cutting into his forehead. "Were you okay?"
"I'm fine," she lied, forcing a smile.
Alex gave her a look that said he didn't believe her. "Lee?"
"I said I'm fine." The sharpness in her tone made him flinch, and guilt tugged at her ribs. She softened her voice. "I just… needed space. That's all."
He hesitated, then nodded, though his shoulders didn't relax. "He's not gonna stop, is he?"
Leona didn't answer. She didn't have to. The silence between them was heavy enough.
By noon, the whispers had started again. Every hallway she walked down, she caught fragments.
"Moreno's new target…"
"…the sister, right? The one who…"
"…bet she won't last a week…"
Her fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to scream at them, tell them they didn't know anything, that Zac Moreno wasn't some game you placed bets on, but she bit her tongue and kept walking.
Because the truth was, maybe they were right.
That evening, she stayed late in the library, too restless to go back to her empty dorm. The quiet aisles and the faint smell of paper were safer than the thought of facing another night alone. She spread her books across the table, highlighting words she wasn't even reading, until the windows went dark and the librarian began flicking the lights.
"Closing in ten minutes," the woman called.
Leona sighed, packing her things into her bag. The halls were empty when she stepped outside, the campus quiet in the way it only was after hours. Her footsteps echoed too loudly against the pavement.
Halfway to her dorm, the sound of an engine rolled through the silence.
Her body locked up.
She turned slowly, pulse pounding, and there it was.
A black bike at the far end of the street. Engine idling. Headlight burning into the dark like a single watching eye.
Zac.
He didn't move toward her. Didn't call out. Didn't even smirk. He just sat there astride the bike, helmet dangling from his hand, watching her.
Leona's breath caught in her throat. She took one step backward. Then another.
The engine revved once, sharp and violent, echoing off the empty buildings.
And then the headlight cut out.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When her vision adjusted, the street was empty.
Leona stumbled the rest of the way to her dorm, her hands shaking as she fumbled the key into the lock. She slammed the door shut, bolted it, pressed her back against it like a barricade.
Her phone buzzed.
Her chest caved.
Unknown: Sleep tight, princess. I'll see you soon.
She dropped the phone like it burned her.
And for the first time since arriving on campus, Leona felt it settle in her bones.
This wasn't about Alex anymore.
Zac Moreno was hunting her like a prey.