It happened after sunset.
The kind of hour where the streets look quieter than they really are, where you can't tell if you're alone… or just can't see who's with you.
I was cutting through the alley behind the library, too distracted to notice the shift in the air.
Until a hand closed around my wrist.
Not rough. Not gentle.
Just certain.
I spun, heart crashing into my ribs, and there he was — close enough that I could see the dark in his eyes wasn't just the night.
"You've been ignoring me," he said.
Not a question.
"I don't even know you," I managed.
But the way his fingers tightened, just slightly, told me he didn't believe me.
He leaned in, the faintest brush of his breath against my ear.
"Yes, you do."
I should've pulled away. I should've run.
Instead, I stood there, every nerve lit like fire under my skin.
His other hand reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear — slow, deliberate — before he let me go.
"I'll see you soon, Meg."
This time, it didn't sound like a promise.
It sounded like a fact.
And the worst part?
I wanted to believe him.