ARIA'S POV
The safe house door slams shut behind us. Two officers stand guard outside. Detective Park checks every window, every lock, every possible entrance.
"You'll be safe here," he says. "Don't open the door for anyone except officers you recognize. Don't go near windows. Don't—"
"Don't leave, don't breathe, don't exist," I finish. "We get it."
Detective Park's face softens. "I know this is hard. But Professor Winters is dangerous. She's killed before and she won't hesitate to kill again."
After he leaves, Damien and I sit in the small living room. The silence is heavy.
"Your mentor tried to murder Victoria," I say. "And now she wants to kill you."
"Us," Damien corrects quietly. "That photo had crosshairs on both of us." He runs his hands through his hair. "I trusted Helen. She helped me process my mother's death. She guided my research. She seemed to understand."
"Maybe she understood too well." I pull out my phone and search for information about Professor Winters' sister. "Detective Park said her sister was killed by a stalker. Maybe solving cases like this isn't enough for her anymore. Maybe she wants revenge."
"By killing victims? That doesn't make sense."
"It does to her." I find an article about the sister's murder. "Look at this. Her sister's stalker claimed he loved her. Said they had a relationship, even though she'd rejected him dozens of times. After he killed her, he killed himself."
Damien reads over my shoulder. "So Winters thinks anyone who stays with an obsessive person is as guilty as the obsessive person?"
"In her twisted logic, yes. You stayed with Victoria even though you knew she was dangerous. Therefore, you're guilty."
"I was gathering evidence! I was trying to stop her!"
"Professor Winters doesn't see it that way." I close the article. "To her, you enabled Victoria. You let her obsession grow. You're guilty by association."
Damien stands and paces. "This is insane. Victoria was the killer. Not me."
"I know that. You know that. But Winters has spent twenty years hunting people like Victoria. She's lost perspective. She's become the very thing she hunts—someone obsessed and willing to kill for it."
My phone buzzes. A text from Maya: "Are you okay? I saw the news about the bomb. Please tell me you're alive."
I call her immediately. "Maya, we're okay. We're in a safe house."
"Thank God!" Maya's voice cracks with emotion. "I was so scared. When I saw Damien's building on the news, I thought—" She stops. "What's happening? The news says Victoria is dead."
"She is. But there's more." I explain everything—Victoria's fake suicide, Professor Winters poisoning her, the hit list, the threat.
Maya is silent for a long moment. "So you escaped one killer just to be hunted by another?"
"Pretty much."
"This is so messed up." I hear typing on Maya's end. "Okay, I'm looking into Professor Winters. Give me her full name and date of birth."
I relay the information. Maya types furiously.
"Interesting," Maya says. "Professor Helen Winters doesn't exist before fifteen years ago. No birth certificate, no school records, nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Helen Winters is a fake identity. Whoever she is, she erased her real past and created a new one." More typing. "Wait. I found something. A Helen Morrison changed her name to Helen Winters fifteen years ago. Legal name change."
"Why would she do that?"
"Because Helen Morrison was wanted for questioning in the disappearance of a man named Richard Cole. He was a known stalker with multiple restraining orders. Went missing twelve years ago. Body was never found." Maya's voice drops. "Aria, I think Professor Winters has been killing stalkers for over a decade."
My blood runs cold. "How many?"
"I'm finding at least six suspicious deaths or disappearances. All men with histories of stalking or obsessive behavior. All in cities where Helen Morrison lived before she became Helen Winters." Maya pauses. "Your professor is a serial killer."
I look at Damien. He's watching me, seeing the horror on my face.
"Maya, send everything you found to Detective Park. He needs to know what he's dealing with."
"Already doing it." Typing sounds. "But Aria? Be careful. If Winters has been doing this for twelve years and hasn't been caught, she's good. Really good."
After I hang up, I tell Damien everything. His face goes pale.
"Six people? She's killed six people?"
"At least six that Maya found. Could be more." I sit beside him. "She's been planning this for years. Hunting people she thinks deserve to die."
"And now we're on her list."
We sit in heavy silence. Outside, night has fallen completely. The officers change shifts—new guards taking position.
My phone buzzes again. Unknown number.
I almost don't open it. But something makes me look.
It's a video file.
"Should I play it?" I ask Damien.
"Detective Park said not to respond to any unknown contacts."
"It might be important."
Against my better judgment, I press play.
The video shows a room I recognize—Professor Winters' office at the university. She's sitting at her desk, looking directly at the camera.
"Hello, Aria. Damien." Her voice is calm, almost kind. "I know you're watching this from a safe house. I know the police are protecting you. I want you to understand something before I do what needs to be done."
She stands and walks to a wall covered in photos. Photos of stalking victims. Photos of obsessive lovers. Photos of crime scenes.
"My sister Rachel was everything to me. When she died, I died too. But then I realized—I could save other Rachels. I could stop the monsters before they killed." She touches one photo gently. "I've saved seventeen people in twelve years. Seventeen people who are alive because I removed their stalkers from this world."
"She's confessing," Damien whispers.
Professor Winters continues: "But I made a mistake with Victoria. I watched her. I knew what she was. But I thought I could use her—use your investigation to gather evidence, to understand her psychology. I thought I was in control." Her face hardens. "Then she killed Daniel. And I realized I'd waited too long. I'd let my research obsession override my mission. I enabled a killer."
She moves closer to the camera. "Damien, you did the same thing. You knew Victoria was dangerous. You stayed with her anyway. You gathered evidence instead of stopping her. And because of that, Daniel died. Because of that, a hundred people almost died in that building."
"That's not fair—" Damien starts, but I shush him.
"So now I have to fix my mistake. And yours." Professor Winters pulls out a gun. "The police can't protect you forever. They'll make a mistake. Leave a window unlocked. Let their guard down for just a moment. And when they do, I'll be there."
She leans close to the camera, her eyes intense. "I'm not a monster, Damien. I'm a surgeon removing a cancer. And unfortunately, you've become part of the disease. I'm sorry. I truly am. But this is mercy."
The video ends.
Damien and I stare at the blank screen.
"We need to tell the officers," I say.
But before we can move, the lights go out.
Complete darkness fills the safe house.
"Stay calm," Damien says, but I hear the fear in his voice. "It's probably just a power outage."
Then we hear it. Gunshots outside. Two quick pops.
The officers.
Footsteps on the porch. Slow. Confident.
Someone tries the door handle. It rattles in the darkness.
"She's here," I whisper. "Professor Winters is here."
Damien grabs my hand and pulls me toward the back of the house. We move in complete darkness, trying not to make noise.
Glass shatters in the living room. Someone's coming through the window.
We find a bedroom and lock ourselves inside. Damien pushes a dresser against the door.
"Call 911," he whispers.
I grab my phone. No signal. "She's jamming it somehow."
More footsteps. Coming down the hallway. Getting closer.
"Damien? Aria?" Professor Winters' voice is gentle, almost motherly. "I don't want to make this painful. Come out and I'll make it quick. You won't feel anything."
The door handle jiggles. She's testing it.
"I know you're in there. I can hear your breathing."
We back into the corner, trapped. No windows in this room. No other exits.
The door shudders as Professor Winters slams against it. Once. Twice. The dresser slides a few inches.
"I'm sorry it has to be this way," she says. "But you understand, don't you? This is justice. For Rachel. For Daniel. For all the people who were failed by those who could have stopped their killers."
Another slam. The dresser moves more.
Damien pulls me close, shielding me with his body. "If she gets in, run. Don't look back. Just run."
"I'm not leaving you—"
The door explodes inward. The dresser topples.
Professor Winters stands in the doorway, gun raised, silhouetted by emergency lights from the hallway.
"It's time," she says.
And pulls the trigger.
The gunshot is deafening in the small room.
But the bullet doesn't hit us.
Professor Winters staggers forward, confusion on her face. She looks down at the red stain spreading across her chest.
Behind her, Detective Park stands with his gun raised, smoke curling from the barrel.
"Put the weapon down, Helen," he orders.
Professor Winters smiles sadly. Drops her gun. Falls to her knees.
"You were too late to save your officers," she gasps. "Just like I was too late to save Rachel. We're all too late. Always... too late..."
She collapses.
Paramedics rush in. More police flood the house.
Detective Park pulls us from the room. "Are you hurt? Did she touch you?"
"We're okay," I manage. "The officers outside—"
"They're alive. Wounded but alive. Winters shot to disable, not kill. She wanted you for herself." He holsters his gun. "It's over. She's down."
But as paramedics work on Professor Winters, she opens her eyes one last time.
Looks directly at me.
Mouths two words: "Check Victoria's apartment."
Then her eyes close.
"What does that mean?" Damien asks.
Detective Park's radio crackles. "Detective, we have a situation. You need to see this."
"What kind of situation?"
"We searched Victoria Ashford's apartment like you ordered. We found something. You need to come now."
Detective Park looks at us. "Stay here. I'll be back."
But I grab his arm. "No. We're coming with you. Whatever Victoria left behind, we need to see it."
Twenty minutes later, we stand in Victoria's apartment. It looks normal. Pretty decorations. Clean. Organized.
But in the bedroom, officers have pulled back the carpet, revealing a hidden compartment in the floor.
Inside is a box. A large metal box with a padlock.
"We haven't opened it yet," an officer says. "We wanted you here first."
Detective Park cuts the lock with bolt cutters. Opens the box.
We all stare in horror.
Inside are trophies. Daniel's watch. His wallet. His keys. Photos of Damien sleeping. Love letters written in Victoria's handwriting but never sent.
But underneath all of that is something worse.
A journal. Victoria's journal.
Detective Park opens it. Flips through pages of obsessive ramblings, drawings of hearts with "Victoria + Damien Forever" written inside, detailed plans of how to "remove obstacles."
Then he reaches the last entry. Written the day before Victoria died.
He reads it aloud, his voice shaking:
"If I die, he dies. I've prepared everything. The bomb was just the beginning. The real gift activates after my death. 72 hours. That's all the time they have. By then, my final message will be delivered. And Damien will finally understand—we're meant to be together. Forever. Even death can't separate us."
Detective Park looks at his watch. "Victoria died eighteen hours ago."
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means we have fifty-four hours to find whatever Victoria set in motion before she died." He starts making calls. "Search every location Victoria had access to. Find out what she planned."
Damien's phone buzzes. A notification from his bank.
"That's weird," he says. "Someone just used my credit card."
"Where?" Detective Park demands.
Damien checks. His face drains of color. "A flower shop. They bought a funeral arrangement. For Daniel Lin's grave."
"Why would Victoria buy flowers for Daniel's grave?"
"She wouldn't." I feel sick. "Unless she put something else there. Something meant for Damien."
We all look at each other, the same horrible realization dawning.
"We need to get to that cemetery," Detective Park says. "Now."
But as we rush for the door, my phone buzzes.
A final text from Victoria's number. Sent on a delay. From beyond the grave.
"Did you find my presents? Good. But the real surprise isn't at Daniel's grave. It's somewhere much closer. Somewhere you'll never think to look. Tick tock, Damien. Your time is running out. And when my final gift activates, everyone you love will burn. Just. Like. Daniel. —Your Forever Love, V"
Below the text is a countdown timer.
53:47:22
Fifty-three hours, forty-seven minutes, twenty-two seconds.
Until Victoria's final revenge destroys everything.