Chapter 3: Shadows Collide

The night air was thick, pressing against Cliff's skin like an unseen weight. His breath curled in front of him, a ghost of warmth against the cold.

He had been walking for hours, ever since he'd left the house—ever since that thing had stood outside his window. He didn't know where he was going, only that he couldn't stay in that place any longer.

The streets were empty, bathed in the dull yellow glow of flickering streetlights. The city was silent, unnatural in its stillness, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then—

A sudden movement.

A shadow darted across the street ahead, too fast to be normal. Cliff stopped in his tracks, his heart hammering against his ribs.

A second later, the figure slammed into him.

The impact sent them both staggering, but before he could react, the person twisted in his grip like a wild thing. Small but strong.

His hands barely brushed cold skin before she shoved him back.

Cliff's breath hitched.

The girl—if she even was just a girl—had the kind of presence that froze time.

She was beautiful, in a haunting, almost unnatural way. Porcelain-pale skin, lips slightly parted from exertion, and eyes—God, those eyes—evergreen, impossibly deep.

But what caught him off guard wasn't her appearance.

It was the fear in her gaze.

Not the kind of fear that came from being caught doing something she shouldn't.

The kind that came from being hunted.

She barely looked at him before snapping her head around, scanning the street behind her.

Cliff turned instinctively, but there was nothing there. No footsteps. No pursuers.

But she saw something.

She grabbed his wrist. Ice-cold fingers.

"Move."

Her voice was a whisper, but it carried the force of a scream.

Cliff hesitated. "What—"

She didn't wait.

She yanked him into the nearest alleyway, pressing him against the rough brick wall.

His back hit the cold surface, and she flattened herself beside him, her breath shallow.

"Be quiet," she hissed.

The air shifted.

It was the only way Cliff could describe it. Like a sudden drop in pressure, the kind that made his ears pop.

A low, scraping sound echoed from the street.

Cliff's entire body went rigid.

He risked a glance out of the alley.

Nothing.

Just empty pavement, illuminated by the flickering light.

But she knew something was there.

Her grip on his wrist tightened.

Cliff didn't know why, but he trusted her fear.

The unnatural silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come—

It was gone.

The air loosened its grip, the weight lifted.

She exhaled first.

Cliff turned his head towards her, still pinned against the wall.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she let go of his wrist.

The absence of her touch was jarring, like being yanked out of deep water.

She finally stepped back, giving him space.

Up close, she was small, no more than 5'5", but there was something sharp about her—a presence that made her seem taller, heavier than she was.

Her long, raven-black hair framed a face of angles and shadows, her lips set in a firm, unreadable line.

And those eyes—green, unsettlingly deep, like untouched forests—never softened.

She studied him for a long moment before speaking.

"Ava."

The name settled between them like a loaded gun.

Cliff exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "Okay. Ava. Care to explain why I almost had a heart attack just now?"

She glanced away, expression flickering—something almost vulnerable beneath the cold exterior.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"I was being followed," she said simply.

Cliff waited for more, but she didn't elaborate.

"That thing," he pressed, "the one chasing you. It wasn't… normal, was it?"

Ava's jaw clenched. "No."

Cliff had seen enough to know when something wasn't natural.

His mind raced back to the past few days.

The nightmare. The whisper in his room. The thing outside his window.

And now, this girl—this Ava—running for her life from something unseen.

None of it was a coincidence.

He turned back to her, pulse still unsteady.

"I think," he said slowly, "we need to talk."

Ava hesitated, and for the first time, uncertainty flickered in her gaze.

Then, she nodded.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I think we do."

Cliff exhaled.

Whatever this was—whatever was watching them both—

It was only just beginning.