202Back at Jane’s ApartmentThe hallway outside her apartment was quiet, but Jane’s heart wasn’t. It thudded like a warning drum inside her chest as she reached her door and fumbled for her keys. Her fingers, usually so precise, felt clumsy against the cool metal. She finally slid the key into the lock and twisted, pushing the door open with a soft creak.The moment she stepped inside, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved forward, slowly closing the door behind her with a quiet click, then rested her forehead against the wood. It was cold, smooth, and grounding.The silence inside her apartment was eerie—thick, like a pause before something broke. The familiar lavender scent of the reed diffuser in the corner greeted her, but even that felt distant tonight. She slipped off her heels by the door, nudging them aside with the edge of her foot. The relief was immediate. Her toes ached, but her mind hurt more.She glanced

204Dylan Grenville’s eyes flicked to the vibrating phone on the edge of his glass desk. The screen lit up with an unfamiliar number—no caller ID, just an empty sequence of digits that seemed to hum with menace.He hesitated.The air in his office felt heavier now, as if it were thickening with some unseen pressure. Outside the bulletproof glass windows of the high-rise, the city of Eridale glistened under the midnight rain, the skyline cut with static lightning. His pulse quickened, jaw tightening. Then—he hit accept.“Yeah?” he said, voice flat, cautious.For a moment, there was nothing—just static. A hiss, like radio silence stretched too thin. And then it came.A voice.Low. Gravelly. Mechanically distorted, as if dragged through sand and soaked in tar. Filtered, twisted—inhuman.“Mr. Grenville.”Dylan sat upright, every vertebrae snapping to attention as his spine stiffened. His fingers twitched toward the panic button under the desk, but he held off. His voice came out sharper,

206The night deepened, wrapping the penthouse in a velvet hush, broken only by the soft clinking of glasses and the low hum of jazz playing in the background. From the corner of the room, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a glittering skyline, the lights of the city twinkling like a thousand secrets waiting to be whispered.Jane stood by the minibar, swirling her champagne gently as she stared out the window. Behind her, the soft thrum of voices filled the space—laughter, banter, and just the right level of intoxicated excitement to make the room buzz without spinning out of control.Lisa appeared beside her like a ghost in heels, sipping her wine and smirking. “So… he’s pulling out all the stops. Private penthouse? Classy guest list? Jazz that sounds like it was handpicked by a man who owns three turtlenecks?”Jane gave her a look. “He doesn’t own a single turtleneck.”Lisa waved dismissively. “He feels like a man who could. Come on, Jane. Is this just a ‘you crushed the quarter’ pa

208 “Wait,” Jane said slowly, her brow furrowing. “Didn’t you pitch something like this to ForwardTech last year? I remember the prototype.”Bobby blinked—just a fraction too long. His eyes darted around the table, landing on her for a beat longer than necessary. “That was… similar, but flawed. This one’s new. Better team. Better model.”Jane could sense the words slipping from his mouth too smoothly. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something that didn’t quite sit right with her, but this time there was something sharper in the air. A fine thread of doubt, like static crackling on the edge of a storm.Adam, who had been staring at the screen of his phone, looked up with a casual air that masked his curiosity. “What happened with ForwardTech, though? I remember the buzz last year. They were practically salivating over this.”Bobby shrugged, the motion too careful, too rehearsed. “They weren’t ready,” he said smoothly. “And frankly, their ethics were sketchy. I don’t want to work w

210But then, there was Jane. She had barely spoken all evening, her quiet demeanor setting her apart from the rest. She had been sitting at the edge of the group, her eyes downcast, staring into her untouched champagne. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass absentmindedly as she listened to her friends talk about their investments, their dreams. It was so easy for them, so quick to jump in. But Jane wasn’t so sure. She could feel the unease creeping in, the tug in her gut telling her that something wasn’t right. They were so eager, so willing to throw everything into Bobby’s hands. So naïve.“You’re not worried about the risks?” she asked quietly, her voice almost lost amidst the chatter. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment before Bobby’s eyes flicked toward her, catching the subtle challenge in her tone.Bobby’s smile didn’t falter. He leaned forward just enough to catch her gaze, his eyes dark and steady, like a predator eyeing its prey. “Worried? No,” he said, his v