I lean against the counter, closing my eyes. "I just want my life back, Jenna. I want to feel normal again."
"You will. You're getting there."
I nod, even though she can't see me. "Thursday. Pool hall. Cheeseburgers."
"It's a date."
I spot the envelope before I even reach Julian's door.
Crisp white paper. My name is printed in black ink.
My stomach drops.
I snatch it up, fumbling with my keys. Inside, I lock the door behind me and lean against it, staring at the envelope as if it might bite.
Two days. I've been here two goddamn days.
My fingers shake as I tear it open.
I found you.
Three words. That's all. Three words that turn my blood to ice.
I crumple the paper in my fist, rage flooding through me so fast I can barely breathe. "You son of a bitch."
I storm to the kitchen and throw it in the trash, shoving it deep under coffee grounds and yesterday's takeout containers.
How did he get past security? The building has a buzzer system and a locked lobby. But Daniel owns three rental buildings. He knows every trick, every loophole. He probably charmed some delivery guy or slipped someone cash to drop it at the door.
Or he came himself.
The thought makes my skin crawl.
I press my palms against the counter, trying to steady my breathing. The kitchen feels too bright, too exposed. I should eat something—I grabbed takeout on the way home—but my appetite's gone. The idea of food makes my stomach turn.
I found you.
He wants me scared. Wants me looking over my shoulder, jumping at shadows.
And it's working.
I pace the kitchen, arms wrapped around myself. Should I tell Julian? He'd want to know. He'd insist on calling the police, installing cameras, maybe even confronting Daniel himself.
No. I can't put that on him. He's already worried enough, already rearranged his entire life to make room for me and my mess. I won't make it worse.
I grab my phone, thumb hovering over Julian's contact.
Then I turn it off and shove it in my pocket.
I can handle this myself. I have to. Daniel's just playing his sick little games, trying to crawl back into my thoughts, trying to make me feel small and helpless again. But I'm not that person anymore—the girl who jumped at his every text, who second-guessed herself into submission.
I won't let him turn me back into her. I won't hand over that kind of control, not again. Not after everything I've fought through to get here, to this moment, standing in Julian's kitchen with my own choices stretched out before me.
But as I stand here alone, the silence pressing in around me, I can't shake the cold certainty settling in my chest.
He still knows where I am.
And he's not done with me yet.
