Liana’s POV
The city feels different at night. Not quieter, just more watchful.
From my living room window, the streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, pooling like dark water at the edges of the curb.
The steady hum of traffic is the same as it’s always been, but lately it carries a weight, as though the world outside knows something I don’t. I’m being followed.
I’ve known for three days now. First it was a flicker in the rearview mirror, headlights that stayed with me through two turns and a detour. Then it was a black car parked across from my apartment building at odd hours, always with the windows tinted too dark.
And then, tonight, it was the text from Security.
“Suspicious vehicle spotted twice near your residence. License plate confirmed. Registered under: Damian
