My phone buzzed in my pocket, the vibration loud in the quiet room.

I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was an unknown number, but there was a text message.

I tapped the screen to open it.

The message was an image.

It was a photograph of my apartment door, taken from inside the hallway.

A small red mark had been painted on the wood, right next to the brass doorknob.

Below the image, a line of text appeared.

*The chemistry is simple. We can change the formula anytime.*

I showed the screen to Andrew.

His face went completely pale, his grip on my hand tightening until it almost hurt.

“They were at your apartment,” Andrew said, his voice barely a whisper.

“They know where I live,” I said, a cold dread settling deep in my chest.

“You’re not going back there,” Andrew said. “Not tonight. Not until this is over.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” I asked.

“My place,” Andrew said. “The penthouse uptown. It has its own security team.”

Koko looked between the two of us, her eyes wide.