Instead, I calmly stepped back into my car and shut the door


    gently. I pressed the lock button.Click.


    I pulled my blindfold from the glove box and leaned the seat back. Carefully, I draped the blindfold across my face but left a


    sliver <i>at </i>the bottom so I could watch.


    And I did.


    He was still there–smoking, murmuring into the phone. His


    posture was rxed, but the tension in his eyes gave him away.


    They kept sliding toward me, as if checking whether I was still


    inside or had disappeared.


    I remained motionless. Breathing shallow. Observing.


    Eventually, he ended the call and walked to his car–an older


    model with tes I didn’t recognize. He sat in the driver’s seat,


    reclined casually, and sipped from a paper cup.


    And he didn’t leave.


    He didn’t drive away.


    He justsat there. In the vehicle directly across from mine. No


    rush. No urgency. Just lingering.


    ?????


    It wasn’t the only thing bothering me.


    Three days ago, when I had left New York in the dead of night. I had noticed a car–same make, same dull gray–behind me for longer than felt reasonable. I had chalked it up to paranoia.


    Stress.


    But now? Now I was certain.


    The fact that both of us had left the city at the same


    timeandwere now returning on the same day, on the same highway, stopping at the same service station?


    That was no coincidence.


    I stayed still for half an hour, barely breathing, muscles stiff


    with tension as Iy across the backseat. Through the thin slit


    between my fingers and the edge of the blindfold, I kept


    watching him. The man hadn’t moved from his vehicle. He was


    just… waiting. Still. Too still.


    I already knew now that something was off. People didn’t linger


    at rest stops for that long without a reason. My instincts kept


    whispering that this wasn’t random–and Yve was alert too,


    coiled inside me like a spring. Her low growl echoed in my chest,


    silent to everyone else, but loud in my blood.


    But I had no proof.


    Even if I called the police, what would I say? That a man was


    Chapter


    parked legally at a rest stop and happened to nce in <b>my </b>direction more than once? They’dugh me off. Or worse- report it. And thest thing I needed right now was to show up


    on the news again with another scandal.


    I sat up slowly, adjusted the blindfold to shield my eyes from the sun, and started the car with feigned casualness. My fingers


    trembled around the steering wheel.


    In the rearview mirror, I saw the man’s car pull out moments


    after I did. Same distance. Same rhythm. Not tailgating, but


    keeping steady behind me, as if he’d done this before.


    As if I was prey.


    I merged back onto the highway, heart thudding the whole


    time. Each mile felt longer than thest. Every time I nced in


    the rearview, he was there. Still. Always there.


    It wasn’t until I passed the sign that weed me back into the city that I finally dared to exhale. Duskhollow Pines was close


    now. My home. My safe corner.


    I gripped the wheel tighter.


    No matter what happened next, I just needed to reach the


    garage.


    When the dusky gold light of the streemps started dotting the sky, I took a sharp right turn–too sharp. Tires screeched.


    The car behind slowed, but didn’t turn. I blew through a yellow


    light, then another intersection, ignoring the horn that red


    behind me. I nced into the mirror–he was gone.


    I zigzagged through the neighborhood until I reached the gate. Entering the code with jittery fingers, I finally rolled into the underground garage of Duskhollow Pines, pulled into my spot,


    and turned off the engine.


    Only when the silence closed in around me did I allow myself to


    slump over the steering wheel.


    Gone. He was gone.


    I whispered it aloud to reassure myself.


    “He’s not here.”


    But Yve didn’t rx<b>. </b>


    I grabbed my bag, exited the car, and locked it three times just for good measure. The hallway back to my ce was empty, just the echo of my shoes clicking on the floor. I tapped Ava’s number as I walked, lifting the phone to my ear.


    She answered after one ring.


    “Liv? Where are you?”


    “Home,” I said, letting out <i>a </i>breath. “Something weird happened.


    Chapter <i>77 </i>


    I think I was being followed all the way from Jersey!”


    Ava’s voice sharpened. “What? Are you inside?”


    “Not yet,” I said. “I’m at the front door now. Unlocking it.”


    She swore under her breath. “Don’t hang up. Stay on the line.


    You want me toe over?”


    “I don’t know.” I kept my eyes flicking left and right. “I lost him


    back at-”