The next name showed up just as the sun was rising.
Lena almost dropped her coffee when she read it: Daniel Reyes. Tomorrow. Multiple injuries from a fall.
Dan. Her ex. The one renovating that old bank on 45th.
She called him right away. "Dan, don't get on any scaffolding tomorrow."
He picked up, groggy. "Lena? It's six in the morning. Are you okay?"
She told him about the book. The deaths. Moretti. There was silence for a long moment.
Finally, he said, "I know Jenna's death was hard on you, but this... maybe talk to someone?"
"Just promise me you'll call in sick."
He gave her a half-hearted maybe. When they hung up, the book's pages rustled—like it was laughing.
She spent hours digging into research. Old newspapers on microfilm told a chilling story: owners of the book often died or caused deaths around them. A professor in 1923. A nun in 1856. All tried to get rid of it—and paid the price.
That evening, when Lena came home, her front door was unlocked.
The book was sitting right in the middle of her kitchen table. She'd hidden it deep in her closet.
A new line had appeared under Dan's name:
Will you warn them all, Keeper?
Terrified, she screamed so loudly the neighbor's dog started barking. She threw the book across the room—but it landed upright, its pages wide open. Dan's name glowed softly red.
Next morning, a crane collapsed at the bank site. The news showed medics pulling someone into an ambulance.
Lena didn't even need to check the book. She knew.
Her phone rang. Unknown caller.
"Miss Carter?" a woman said. "This is Detective Ruiz. We're looking into what happened to Daniel Reyes. His last call was with you. Did he mention any safety issues?"
Lena's mouth went dry. In the background, she heard the same soft whisper she'd heard in her closet.
The call cut off.
When she opened the book again, Dan's name had a red checkmark next to it. Below that, she saw her own name.
Lena Carter. Five nights from now. Cause of death: chosen.
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