I hadn't slept well. Not after yesterday. Not after the alley. Every creak in my apartment, every groan of the pipes, felt like a warning. The coffee I poured in the morning didn't warm me, didn't soothe the edge of fear that lingered behind my ribs. I tried to convince myself that I could handle it. That I had survived worse. But two years of careful planning had never been challenged like this.
Elias was out there. Watching. Learning. And I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew more than he should.
I stepped onto the streets of Boise, notebook clutched in my hand, ready to take notes, map out patterns, make a plan. My tote weighed heavy against my shoulder, the Queen of Hearts pressing against my thigh like a constant reminder. It wasn't just a card—it was a symbol of my life, my danger, and the invisible strings someone else was trying to pull.
I walked slowly, deliberately, eyes scanning every reflection in every window, every movement in every doorway. This city had been my sanctuary, but today it felt like a stage set for someone else. A stage I didn't want to be on.
At the corner café, Daniel smiled as I entered. "Morning, Clara! The usual?"
I nodded, letting a faint smile mask the tension in my chest. "Yes, thanks."
While he prepared my drink, I observed the patrons. A man reading a newspaper. A mother corralling a toddler. A teenager absorbed in his phone. Ordinary. Safe. Not Elias. Not him.
I took my tea to a small table by the window. Sipping, I made a subtle scan of the street outside. Patterns. Movements. Possible threats. Houdini had always been about observation—about knowing the environment so you could anticipate what was coming. I had learned to do the same.
I made a note: Elias. Apartment 3B. Watch patterns. Check mirrors, reflections, foot traffic. Possible connection to blackmailer?
As I wrote, I felt a presence behind me. A shadow crossing the café. I turned slightly. Elias. Not sneaking, just… there. Sitting at a table near the back, half-hidden, pretending to read a magazine. Observing. Waiting.
I stiffened. My pulse raced. Did he follow me here? Or had he just coincidentally chosen the café? My instincts told me otherwise. He didn't do anything by coincidence.
I pretended to sip my tea, casually glancing around. Elias met my eyes briefly, the flicker of recognition—or was it amusement?—sending a shiver down my spine.
He looked away as the barista called someone's name. I let myself exhale slowly. But the feeling of being watched didn't leave.
By the time I left the café, I had a plan. I wasn't going to confront Elias directly—not yet. I needed information, needed to understand what he knew. And if he was connected to the blackmailer, I had to find out before it was too late.
I wandered the streets, notebook in hand, pretending to browse shop windows. Every reflection in glass, every shadow along the brick walls, I cataloged silently in my mind. I traced possible routes. Escape paths. Hiding spots. Emergency exits. This city was familiar, but today it felt like a maze designed to test me.
And then I saw a card. On the sidewalk, partially hidden beneath a newspaper. My stomach dropped. I bent down carefully.
The Queen of Hearts.
I froze. My hands trembled as I picked it up, noting the meticulous handwriting on the back:
You can't escape what's already come for you.
My heart pounded. The blackmailer had sent it. It had been left for me, deliberately, to draw me out. And now I knew—the game was escalating.
I slipped the card into my notebook and continued walking. I needed information, yes, but I also needed to survive the day. If he wanted to play, I would play better. I had learned patience, observation, misdirection. I could turn this.
I ducked into an alley to survey the street from a hidden vantage point. From here, I could see multiple storefronts, pedestrians, reflections in the windows, and most importantly… the building across from mine. Apartment 3B. Elias's apartment.
I watched. Waited. Calculated.
Hours passed. The sun shifted. Shadows lengthened. Elias didn't leave. But I noticed something. Small movements at his window. Subtle, deliberate. He wasn't just observing me. He was trying to send a signal. Or maybe test me.
I jotted notes furiously. Pattern. Timing. Reflection. Possible accomplice. Blackmailer link?
Every fiber of my being screamed at me: he knew more. He was patient. Strategic. And he wanted me to realize it.
As dusk fell, I retreated to my apartment. I locked the door, drew the blinds, and laid out everything I had observed: the Queen of Hearts cards, the messages, Elias's odd behavior. I spread them across the table like a map of threats.
I had survived Houdini's tank once. I had emerged from smoke and fire before. I had disappeared when the world thought I was gone.
Now, I was being tested in a different arena. One with no audience, no applause, no safety net.
And I realized something crucial: if I made one wrong move, if I underestimated Elias—or the blackmailer—the life I had built in Boise would vanish in an instant.
I had to be smarter. Faster. More unpredictable.
I would survive. I had no choice.
Because Ava didn't just disappear. She escaped.
And this time, she wasn't performing for an audience. She was performing for her life.