Hunted

The city, usually a vibrant symphony of honking taxis and distant sirens, had taken on a hushed, expectant quality. It was the kind of silence that precedes a storm, a heavy stillness that prickled the hairs on the back of my neck. I’d known, the moment I’d pocketed that crumpled note, that I was stepping onto a path fraught with peril, but I hadn’t anticipated the ground beneath me would begin to crumble so soon.

My apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a glass house. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant car alarm, sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. Megan, bless her loyal heart, was a whirlwind of nervous energy, pacing the small living room like a caged tiger. Her usual easy banter was replaced by clipped questions and darting glances towards the windows.

“Are you sure about this, Iris?” she asked, her voice a low murmur that did little to soothe my own burgeoning unease. “Maybe we should just… drop it. Go to the police. Let them handle it.”