Autumn's POV
Kade picks me up at seven AM the next morning.
I'm standing outside my apartment building in the early light when a sleek black car pulls up. The window rolls down, revealing Kade behind the wheel, sunglasses on despite the sunrise, looking like he hasn't slept.
"Get in," he says. "We have work to do."
"Work doesn't start until nine."
"Not that work. The other work." He tilts his sunglasses down, meeting my eyes. "The 'figure out who's stalking you' work. Get in."
I climb into the passenger seat. The car smells like coffee and expensive leather. There's a tablet on the dashboard displaying security footage, a notebook covered in Kade's sharp handwriting, and two large coffees in the cup holders.
"I bought you coffee," he says, pulling away from the curb. "Uncle James said you take it with cream and sugar. If he's wrong, deal with it. We don't have time for coffee runs."
I take the cup, warmth spreading through my hands. "You've been working on this all night?"
"Couldn't sleep. I hate unsolved puzzles, and this stalker is definitely a puzzle." He drives with one hand, the other gesturing at the tablet. "I went through all the security footage from yesterday. Your stalker showed up at 8:45 AM, exactly ten minutes before you arrived. They knew your schedule."
"How?"
"Good question. Either they followed you before and learned your patterns, or someone told them." He takes a sharp turn. "I'm betting on option two. Someone at Crestwood is feeding information to your stalker. Maybe they're the same person, maybe not."
My stomach twists. "Where are we going?"
"Crestwood Academy."
"What? No! I can't go back there—"
"Relax. School's closed for summer. But I still have keys to the media lab from when I was student council president." He glances at me. "We're going to check the security footage from the day your locker was broken into. Schools keep everything digital now. If we're lucky, we'll get a face."
"And if we're not lucky?"
"Then we move to plan B."
"What's plan B?"
"I haven't figured that out yet." He pulls into Crestwood's empty parking lot. "But I will. I'm very good at plans."
The school looks different without students. Quiet. Almost peaceful. Kade leads me through a side entrance, punching in a code that still works.
"They haven't changed the codes?" I ask.
"Crestwood is lazy about security. They think their reputation keeps them safe." He leads me down empty hallways. "That's their first mistake."
The media lab is exactly as I remember—computers, cameras, editing equipment. Kade sits down at the main computer and starts typing rapidly.
"What are you doing?"
"Hacking into the security system. Don't look at me like that. It's technically not hacking if I'm using my old student login that they forgot to deactivate." His fingers fly across the keyboard. "What day was your locker broken into?"
"Yesterday. June tenth."
"Time?"
"Riley found it around two PM, but it could've happened anytime during the day."
"Let's start with lunch period. That's when most students have free time." He pulls up footage from various hallway cameras. "Which hallway is your locker in?"
"West wing. Second floor. Locker 247."
He switches cameras until he finds the right hallway. We watch in fast-forward as students pass by, a blur of motion and color.
Then, at 12:15 PM, someone stops at my locker.
"There," I breathe.
Kade slows the footage to normal speed. A figure in a dark hoodie approaches my locker. They look around—checking for witnesses—then pull out something from their pocket.
"Lock picking tools," Kade mutters. "Interesting. Not many high school students know how to pick locks."
The figure works quickly, gets the locker open within thirty seconds, places something inside, then closes it and walks away.
"Did you see their face?" I ask desperately.
"No. They kept their head down the whole time. Smart." Kade rewinds and zooms in. "But look at this."
He pauses on a frame where the person's sleeve has ridden up slightly. On their wrist is a bracelet—gold, with dangling charms.
"That's a Cartier bracelet," Kade says. "Five thousand dollars minimum. Not many students at Crestwood can afford that. Narrows down the suspect list significantly."
"Madison Pierce has one," I say quietly. "I've seen her wear it."
"So do about fifteen other girls from rich families. But it's a start." He screenshots the image. "I'll make a list of everyone who owns this specific bracelet. Cross-reference with people who have motive to hurt you."
"That's a long list."
"Then we'll work through it systematically." He stands up. "Come on. We need to get to the office before Uncle James realizes we're late."
At Zhang Technologies, I throw myself into work with desperate focus. Taking photos means not thinking about stalkers or threats or the countdown to September.
Kade works beside me, equally focused. We fall into a rhythm—him directing, me shooting, both of us pushing for perfection. When we disagree, we argue. When we agree, we create something amazing.
By lunch, we've finished two days' worth of work.
"You're fast," Kade says, reviewing the photos. "And good. Dangerously good combination."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It's an observation. I don't do compliments." But he's almost smiling. "Take a break. You've earned it."
I check my personal phone for the first time all morning. Three messages from Riley, two from my mom, and one from an unknown number.
My hand shakes as I open the unknown message.
Unknown: Nice car you got picked up in this morning. New boyfriend already? Moving on fast from Crew. Guess you really are desperate for attention.
I show it to Kade without a word.
His expression turns to ice. "They're watching your apartment now."
"What do I do?"
"Screenshot it. Add it to the evidence folder." He thinks for a moment. "And we escalate. If they want to play games, we'll show them who's better at this."
"What does that mean?"
"It means tomorrow, we set a trap." He pulls out his notebook, already sketching out ideas. "They think they're hunting you. Let's make them think they're winning. Let's give them a target they can't resist."
"You want to use me as bait?"
"I want to give them enough rope to hang themselves." He meets my eyes. "But only if you're willing. I won't put you in danger without your consent."
I think about the threatening texts. The broken locker. The photo of me walking to work. Someone out there thinks they can terrorize me into submission.
"What's the trap?" I ask.
Kade grins. "I'll explain tonight. Right now, we have work to finish."
That evening, Kade drives me home but doesn't stop at my building. Instead, he parks a block away.
"What are we doing?" I ask.
"Testing a theory." He pulls out his phone. "I'm going to walk you to your door in five minutes. I want to see if anyone's watching."
"And if they are?"
"Then we know they're monitoring you in real-time. Which means they're either very dedicated or very obsessed." He hands me a small device. "This is a GPS tracker. Keep it in your pocket. If anything happens—if you feel unsafe, if you see someone following you—press the button. It'll send an alert to my phone with your exact location."
"Kade, this is too much—"
"No, it's not enough. But it's what we can do right now." His voice softens slightly. "Look, I know we just met. I know I'm probably overstepping. But I watched Madison Pierce destroy people at Crestwood for four years, and nobody stopped her. Nobody stood up. I'm not making that mistake again."
Something in my chest cracks open. "Why do you care so much?"
He's quiet for a long moment. "Because someone needed to care about me once, and nobody did. I'm not letting that happen to someone else."
Before I can respond, he gets out of the car. "Come on. Let's see if we have an audience."
We walk to my building together. Kade talks loudly about work, about tomorrow's schedule, making sure anyone watching knows I'll be at Zhang Tech again.
At my door, he stops. "Remember—GPS tracker in your pocket. Button if you need help. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow at seven. Don't be late."
He walks away, and I go inside. From my window, I watch him get in his car. But he doesn't drive away. He sits there, watching, waiting.
My phone buzzes.
Kade: Checking something. Stay away from the window.
I step back, heart pounding. What did he see?
Five minutes later, another text.
Kade: Someone was watching from the building across the street. Third floor, corner window. They left when I stared at their window. Taking a photo of the building now. We'll figure out who rents that apartment tomorrow.
My blood runs cold. Someone is watching my home.
Me: Should I tell my mom?
Kade: Not yet. Don't want to scare her until we have solid proof. But Autumn? Lock your windows tonight. All of them.
I go through our tiny apartment, checking every window, every lock. Mom is at her evening shift. I'm alone.
I should be terrified. Part of me is.
But another part—the part that's been growing stronger since I started at Zhang Tech—is angry.
Angry at being watched. Angry at being threatened. Angry at being treated like prey.
I pull out my personal notebook and start writing. Not a diary entry. A plan.
If someone wants to watch me, I'll give them a show. If they want to threaten me, I'll collect every piece of evidence. If they think I'm weak, I'll prove them wrong.
By the time Mom comes home at midnight, I have three pages of notes. Strategies. Preparations. A timeline for the summer.
"Sweetheart?" Mom peeks into my room. "You're still awake?"
"Just planning for work," I say, closing the notebook. "How was your shift?"
"Exhausting. But seeing you excited about something again..." She smiles. "It makes it worth it. This job is good for you."
"Yeah. It really is."
After she goes to bed, I check my phone one more time. Another message from the stalker.
Unknown: Sleep tight, Autumn. We'll be watching.
I stare at the message, then type a response for the first time.
Me: Watch all you want. I'm not afraid of you anymore.
I send it before I can second-guess myself.
The reply comes immediately.
Unknown: You should be.
Then, another message. This one makes my blood freeze.
A photo. Of my bedroom window. Taken from outside. Tonight.
They're not just watching from across the street.
They're right outside my building.
Right now.
I grab the GPS tracker Kade gave me and press the button.
Then I hear it—a soft sound at my window.
Someone trying to open it from the outside.