It’s been days since I found the envelope. Days since the black SUV last showed itself.
But I know it’s still there. Somewhere. Watching. Waiting.
I don’t see it when I leave for work in the mornings, or when I come home late at night, but sometimes I catch a reflection — a dark shape in a window, a car that turns off its lights too quickly. My wolf inside me doesn’t rest anymore. She growls quietly, always alert.
I keep my face calm. Pretend everything is normal. At the diner, I smile and serve coffee, write orders, make small talk with customers.
But I never sit with my back to the windows.
I never take the same route home twice.
And I never go anywhere without watching every shadow.
That night, I only slept for a couple of hours and when I woke up I was sure not to turn any light
