The city had a way of lulling you into a false sense of security. Downtown Boise, with its brick sidewalks and familiar coffee smells, could almost convince you that nothing from the past would ever touch you again. Almost.
I had tried to convince myself that Elias was just another neighbor. Polite, perhaps even friendly. But the way he looked at me, sometimes lingering too long, sometimes too knowing… it was a reminder that my carefully built life wasn't as secure as I liked to believe.
That morning, I left my apartment early, telling myself I needed fresh air, that walking through the city would clear my head. But I couldn't ignore the tension in my shoulders, the tightness in my chest, the feeling that I was being watched.
I stopped at the corner café I had visited for months. Daniel, the owner, waved me over as he set out pastries.
"Morning, Clara!" he called, as always cheerful. "The usual?"
I nodded. "Yes, please."
While he prepared my latte, I kept scanning the street outside. Familiar faces moved past: a mailman with a crooked smile, a man walking his dog, a couple laughing as they pushed a stroller. Nothing unusual. Nothing that screamed danger. Yet the feeling wouldn't leave me.
When I stepped outside, latte in hand, I saw him. Elias. Standing just past the crosswalk, leaning against a streetlamp, arms crossed. The sun caught his hair in just the right angle, the kind of detail that made you notice someone without realizing it consciously. He looked casual, but the way his eyes met mine was deliberate. I froze for a fraction of a second. My chest tightened.
I forced myself to walk past him as if I hadn't noticed, keeping my gaze straight ahead. My mind raced. Was he following me? Testing me? Or was it just coincidence?
A week ago, the unknown number had sent me a message:
"You can run, Ava, but you can't hide. Remember what you owe me."
I had ignored it—or at least tried to. But now, standing there with Elias on the street, a sinking feeling filled my chest. I wasn't imagining the danger. It was real, and it was closing in.
I ducked into a small alley to take a shortcut, hoping to lose him if he was indeed following. The walls were brick, the shadows deep. Every sound was amplified: a trashcan lid rattling, footsteps echoing, a cat mewing somewhere in the dark. I clutched my tote tighter, feeling the weight of the Queen of Hearts card pressing against my thigh.
And then I saw movement.
A figure stepped from the shadows at the far end of the alley, just enough that I could make out the shape. My breath caught. For a heartbeat, I froze. Then recognition hit like ice water.
It wasn't Elias. Not exactly. It was someone else. Someone I hadn't seen in years, someone I thought I'd left behind in smoke and applause, someone who could ruin everything with a single word.
The blackmailer.
He didn't move closer. Just watched, head tilted slightly, as if he knew I'd notice. My pulse pounded. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to disappear, to vanish like I had before. But I stayed rooted, calculating, assessing.
I had survived before. I could survive again.
I took a slow breath, steadying myself. "What do you want?" I called, keeping my voice calm, even though my chest was heaving.
He smiled, faint and cruel. "You know what I want, Ava. You've always known."
I clenched my fists. "I don't owe you anything."
"Ah, but you do. That's the beauty of it, isn't it? You can run, you can hide… but you can't escape the game you started."
I glanced around the alley. Escape routes. Hiding places. Thinking, calculating. Every move had to be precise. One misstep, and everything I had built here—my life, my freedom, my identity—could be shattered in an instant.
The streetlights flickered as he stepped closer, but not too close. Always maintaining control, always just outside the reach of panic.
"You've grown clever, Clara. But clever isn't enough."
The way he said my alias—Clara—sent a chill down my spine. He knew both names. He knew everything.
And then I saw it. A small camera perched on the corner of a nearby building. A lens catching my image. Recording. Watching. Documenting.
He's watching me. All of me.
My mind raced. Options. Escape routes. Strategies. The Houdini tricks I had learned and perfected. Smoke, mirrors, misdirection. I could vanish. I had done it before. I could do it again.
But first, I needed to survive this encounter. I needed to make him believe he had power, all while planning my next move.
"I'm not afraid of you," I said, forcing steel into my voice.
He tilted his head, amused. "You will be. Soon enough."
Before I could react further, he stepped back into the shadows, disappearing like a ghost. The alley was silent again. The city around me buzzed, unaware of the threat that had just passed through it.
I stood there, shaking slightly, and finally allowed myself to breathe. But I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.
Elias was still out there. The blackmailer was still out there. And I—Ava—was trapped in a web of danger that had been spun long before I ever faked my death.
I had survived water tanks and smoke and fire. I had survived before.
But this game was different.
And I had no idea how it would end.