My Mafia Stalker

Ray

The photo burned in my hands. Mia stood in the hall, blinking from the flash, her expression pale and uncertain. But I wasn’t looking at her anymore. My eyes were locked on the small screen of my camera. Behind her — in the grainy edges of light — there was a man.

He wasn’t a blur this time. Not a shadow, not a trick of exposure. He was solid. Dark coat. Cold eyes. The faintest curve of a smile that felt carved, deliberate, like he was aware of being seen.

My throat closed.

“Mia,” I whispered, “don’t move.”

“What? Ali, you’re scaring me—”

“Behind you,” I said, barely breathing.

She turned before I could stop her. The hall was empty. Just the flickering light above, the peeling paint on the walls. Nothing else.

“Ali, there’s no one there.”

But I saw him. I knew I did. The echo of that smile lingered in my mind like an afterimage.

I ran down the hall and tore open the stairwell door, my pulse hammering. The space was dim, smelling of dust and metal. I peered down the stairs — nothing but shadows spiraling into darkness. Then, a sound. A low, amused chuckle, soft enough that I almost thought I’d imagined it.

“Ali,” Mia said behind me, her voice trembling. “Please stop.”

But I couldn’t. I pressed forward, gripping the camera like a lifeline. Every step creaked. Every sound seemed to come from somewhere else.

Halfway down, I saw him.

He was standing at the landing below, calm as if he’d been waiting for me. Black coat. Black gloves. His presence filled the air like heat from a fire, oppressive and magnetic all at once.

“Finally,” he said softly. “You’re a hard woman to catch alone.”

I couldn’t speak. My voice felt buried somewhere under my fear.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I managed. “Leave.”

He smiled faintly. “This is where you live, isn’t it? Why would I leave?”

My skin crawled. The way he said it — like he already knew everything. My name. My apartment. My habits.

“Who are you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if amused that I didn’t already know. “Ray.”

The name landed like a weight in the air. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place why.

“What do you want from me?”

His eyes flicked toward my camera. “You’ve been watching me,” he said. “Taking pictures. Following the trail I left for you. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered. “You’ve been stalking me.”

He smiled again — that slow, deliberate expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “I prefer the word observing. You’re quite good at hiding, Ali. But I always find what I want.”

Mia called my name from above, voice cracking. “Ali! Come back up!”

Ray glanced up, his gaze hardening for just a moment. “You should be careful with her,” he murmured. “She’s trying to take you away from me.”

I blinked, stepping back. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s not your friend,” he said quietly. “She’s been lying to you. Making calls. Telling people you’re unstable. That’s why she wanted that doctor, isn’t it?”

My chest tightened. The way he said it — like he’d been listening all along.

“How do you know that?”

He smiled again, almost gently. “I know everything that touches you.”

My hand shook around the camera. I raised it instinctively, pointing it at him like it could shield me. “Don’t come closer.”

“Why would I hurt you?” he asked, his voice silk-smooth. “You’re the only thing that makes this city worth watching.”

I snapped a photo, the flash bursting in the stairwell. When the light faded, he was gone.

I stared at the empty landing, heart pounding so loud it hurt. He couldn’t have disappeared. There was nowhere to go.

But when I turned, Mia was there, tears streaming down her face.

“Ali, please,” she begged. “You’re scaring me. There’s no one here.”

I looked at her — at her trembling hands, her red eyes — and something inside me cracked.

“You didn’t see him?”

“There’s no one!” she cried. “Please, you need help!”

I pushed past her and ran.

Outside, the city was quiet, too quiet. The wind pressed cold against my face as I stumbled through the streets, camera clutched to my chest. I didn’t know where I was going until I found myself back at the pier again.

The same stretch of weathered wood. The same soft hum of waves below.

I sat at the edge and turned on my camera, flipping through the photos with shaking hands. There — the picture I’d taken in the stairwell.

Ray stood clear as day. Dark eyes. Pale skin. The faint shadow of a scar near his mouth. Behind him, blurred and distant, was me.

I pressed the zoom button again and again, trying to make sense of it. His face looked so calm, so assured, as if he knew the camera would find him.

Then the screen flickered.

For a second — just a second — the image changed. His head turned. His eyes looked directly at the lens.

At me.

The battery died.

I gasped and dropped the camera, my breath clouding the night air. The waves crashed below, rhythmic and endless. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

I froze.

The voice came from behind me. Smooth. Familiar. Real.

I turned slowly.

Ray stood there, hands in his coat pockets, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. Streetlight gleamed off his dark hair. He looked exactly like the photo — maybe even more real than anyone I’d ever seen.

“How—”

He stepped closer. “You dropped this,” he said, bending to pick up my camera. His gloved fingers brushed mine as he handed it back. The contact was brief, but it felt like static shot through me.

“I like this one,” he said softly, glancing at the photo still faintly glowing on the dead screen. “You caught me well. Most people don’t see me at all.”

“Why me?” I whispered.

He smiled. “You have an eye for truth. You see what others don’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me. “You remind me of someone. Someone I lost a long time ago.”

I stepped back. “You’ve been following me for weeks.”

He didn’t deny it. “Months, actually.”

My stomach twisted. “Why?”

He took another step forward, his gaze steady, almost tender. “Because you make me remember what it’s like to want something.”

The words hit like a cold wind. I wanted to run, to scream, but my legs wouldn’t move. He didn’t sound threatening — not exactly. Just certain.

“Stay away from me,” I managed.

Ray chuckled softly. “If that’s what you want.” He turned, starting to walk away, his figure dissolving into the fog rolling in from the water. “But you’ll miss me. You already do.”

I stood there long after he disappeared, my thoughts tangled and broken.

By the time I returned home, dawn was breaking. The sky was a dull gray, heavy and tired. I didn’t remember walking back. I didn’t remember unlocking the door. But somehow, I was inside again.

The apartment was still. The air thick with silence.

I sat on the floor, the camera in my lap, and whispered to the empty room, “He’s real.”

For the first time in weeks, it didn’t sound like a lie.

But when I turned the camera on again, the photo from the stairwell was gone. Deleted. Every image — gone.

I searched the files, the memory card, every folder. Nothing.

Then I noticed something new. A fresh photo, one I didn’t take.

It was me.

Sleeping.

My mouth went dry.

There was a second photo.

Me again — but this time, I wasn’t alone. A shadow stood beside the bed, hand reaching toward my face.

I slammed the camera shut, heart racing so fast it hurt. I didn’t want to look again. I couldn’t.

A soft knock came from the door.

I froze.

“Ali?” Mia’s voice. “It’s me.”

I didn’t move. I stared at the door, every muscle rigid.

Then another voice — lower, smoother — spoke behind it.

“She’s not alone, Mia.”

The blood drained from my face.

Mia’s muffled gasp came through the wood. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

Then, footsteps fading down the hall.

I pressed my ear to the door. Nothing.

When I finally opened it, the hallway was empty again.

Except for one thing — a photograph slipped under the door.

I picked it up with trembling hands.

It was a portrait of me. Taken from outside my window. The caption scrawled beneath in elegant handwriting:

Don’t let them take you away from me.