Chapter 4 - The Calling Card Under The Door
The deadbolt of our apartment door clicked home with a heavy, final sound that felt entirely too loud in the silent hallway. It was past two in the morning. The wooden floors of our third-floor walk-up groaned under our tired steps as I carried Isabella down the narrow corridor to her small bedroom. She was still half-asleep, her fingers loosely curled around the brass crank of the music box. I tucked the pastel quilt up around her shoulders, kissed her forehead, and whispered a quiet promise that everything was going to be alright, even though my own hands were still trembling.
I walked back to the tiny kitchen, switched on a single overhead lamp, and poured a glass of tap water. The apartment was cramped, smelling faintly of old plaster and the lemon floor wax I used every Sunday, but tonight it felt terribly exposed. Every shadow near the window seemed to stretch toward us.
When I stepped back into the tiny entryway to hang my damp jacket, something caught my eye on the faded linoleum floor. A thick, cream-colored card had been slid underneath the front door, half-hidden by the welcome mat.
My breath caught in my throat. I crouched down slowly, my fingers hovering over the heavy card stock before I picked it up. There was no name, no return address. Just a single sentence embossed in stark black lettering: *accidents happen twice to people who forget their place.*
The cold reality of Preston Hale's reach settled into my stomach like lead. He hadn't waited for morning. He already knew where I lived, what building I entered, how vulnerable we were tucked away in this forgotten corner of the city.
My gaze drifted to the kitchen table where Adrian's matte-black card rested beside my car keys. For a long moment, pride and fear wrestled fiercely inside me. I wanted to handle this alone, to shrink back into the shadows and pretend the world was safe. But looking down at the threat in my hand, and remembering Isabella's sleeping face down the hall, I knew pride was a luxury I could no longer afford.
I picked up my burner phone, the plastic casing cold against my palm, and punched in the ten digits from the card before my courage could fail me. It rang once, twice, and then a deep, familiar voice answered on the other end.
May you like
"I found the card," I said without preamble, my voice tight and steady. "You were right."
"Stay inside, lock every deadbolt, and don't open the door for anyone," Adrian replied instantly, his tone shifting into absolute command. "I'm ten minutes away. Pack a bag for both of you."
