Nowhere to Run

Lena kept running.

Her legs ached, her breath came in short gasps, but she didn't stop. The black car hadn't followed her down the alley, but that didn't mean she was safe. Whoever was inside didn't need to chase her. They already knew who she was.

They were waiting. Watching.

Her mind raced. Where could she go? Not home—too obvious. Not the police—what would she even tell them? That she got a mysterious letter and now she thought she was being followed? They'd probably call her parents and send her home.

She needed to disappear.

Noah.

He had been the one to warn her. He had been at the train station first. He knew something—more than he was telling her.

Lena turned a corner, slowing just enough to get her bearings. She was near the old library—one of the few places in town that stayed open late, but not this late. The streets were quiet, the houses dark. Most people were asleep.

She was alone.

Or at least… she hoped she was.

She moved quickly, ducking behind a row of parked cars as she scanned the street. Her phone was in her jacket pocket, but who would she even call? She barely knew Noah. He hadn't given her a way to reach him.

But she had an idea.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the second letter—the one Noah had given her. Midnight wasn't a test. It was a warning.

But there was something else. Something she hadn't noticed before.

At the bottom of the page, barely visible in the dim streetlight, was a single set of numbers.

241 West Elm.

Lena's heart pounded. An address.

It could be nothing. Or it could be exactly what she needed.

She had no other choice.

She shoved the paper back into her pocket and took off toward West Elm, keeping close to the shadows.

West Elm Street was quieter than she expected. The houses here were older, their porches sagging, their windows dark. Most of them looked empty, abandoned.

241 was near the end of the street, tucked between two boarded-up houses.

Lena hesitated on the sidewalk, staring up at it. It wasn't a house. It looked more like an old shop, its windows covered in dust, the sign above the door long faded. The door itself was slightly open, just enough to see the sliver of darkness inside.

Noah had to be here. Right?

She stepped forward and pushed the door open.

The hinges creaked, the sound too loud in the silence.

Inside, it was even darker. The air smelled of dust and something else—something metallic. The shelves were mostly empty, but a few old books and papers lay scattered across a wooden counter.

"Noah?" she whispered.

Nothing.

Lena's pulse quickened. Maybe this wasn't his place. Maybe she had just walked into some random abandoned shop in the middle of the night, alone, while someone out there was still following her.

Maybe this was a mistake.

She took a step back toward the door—

And then she heard it.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

Lena spun around just as a shadow moved.

A hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream.

Her body tensed, every muscle locking in fear.

"Shh," a voice murmured in her ear. "It's me."

Noah.

Lena's heart was still racing as he let go, stepping back just enough for her to turn around.

He was standing in the dim light filtering through the dusty windows, his face partially hidden by the hood of his jacket. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—dark, sharp—studied her carefully.

"You weren't supposed to come here," he said.

Lena glared at him. "Then maybe don't give people mysterious letters with addresses on them."

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You shouldn't have opened that letter."

"Well, I did," she shot back. "And now I want answers."

He exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "It's not that simple."

Lena clenched her fists. "It never is, is it?"

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Noah glanced toward the door, his posture suddenly tense.

"Did anyone see you come here?"

Lena hesitated. "I don't know."

Noah swore under his breath. He turned, moving quickly toward the back of the shop.

"We need to go," he said.

Lena frowned. "Go where?"

Noah didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed an old duffel bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder.

Then he looked at her.

"If they followed you, they'll be here soon."

Lena's stomach twisted.

"They," she repeated. "Who are they?"

Noah hesitated—just for a second.

Then, from outside, a car door slammed.

Lena's blood ran cold.

Noah cursed under his breath. "Too late."

A shadow passed in front of the window.

Someone was out there.

And they were coming for her.