I spent the rest of that night sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the door.

The rain did not stop.

It beat against the glass pane like small, frantic fingers trying to get in.

Every time the old building creaked, my muscles tensed.

By dawn, my eyes were burning from lack of sleep.

I looked at the text message again.

*I know where the boss keeps his favorite things now.*

It was a direct threat, not just to me, but to Lily.

When the sun finally rose, casting a gray, watery light over the city, I called Dante.

He answered on the second ring, his voice deep and awake.

“I saw the video,” I told him, my voice cracking.

“I know,” Dante said. “My security team saw the ping on your old IP address. We are tracking the number.”

“He knows about us, Dante. He knows I’m not at the apartment.”

“He knows you are under my protection,” Dante corrected. “That makes him desperate.”

“I want to go to the police,” I said.