I ran upstairs.
My room was a mess.
Drawers open.
Closets empty.
Someone had searched everything.
But nothing valuable was gone.
Which made it worse.
Because that meant Victor wasn't looking for money.
Amara suddenly called my name from downstairs.
Her voice sounded terrified.
When I reached the living room again
She was staring at the wall.
A message was written there.
In black marker.
"This isn't over."
Underneath it was something even worse.
A photograph.
Of me.
Taken earlier that night through the window.
My chest tightened.
Because that meant Victor had been
watching us for a long time.
Not minutes.
Hours.
Maybe longer.
And if he could get this close once
He could do it again.