Part 1
My name is Maya Vance, a thirty-one-year-old architectural designer in Chicago, and right now, my pulse is hammering against my ribs as I stare at my phone screen in horror. Ten minutes ago, in the middle of our annual family Christmas brunch at my parents’ suburban home in Oak Park, my younger sister Chloe tapped her champagne glass....
Part 1
I’m Lauren, a thirty-two-year-old corporate risk consultant in Chicago, and I never imagined the man I loved would humiliate me over holiday mimosas. For eight months, I wore an engagement ring from Carter, my partner of two years. We had already booked our dream June wedding venue, finalized the guest list, and paid five thousand dollars in non-refundable...
Part 1
My name is Maya Vance, I’m a thirty-one-year-old trauma nurse from suburban Atlanta, and right now, my trembling hands are pressing hard against my mouth to silence my breathing while my husband racks the slide of a shotgun on the floor above me.
Ten minutes ago, I wasn't even supposed to be here. A sudden migraine cut my twelve-hour...
Part 1
My name is Marcus Vance, and if you told me an hour ago that I’d be staring down the cold barrel of a service weapon on a deserted side street in downtown Atlanta, I would have laughed. But there was nothing funny about the tight grip of metal cuffs biting into my wrists, or the rain slicking the...
PART 1
My face slammed into the grease-slicked linoleum of the Riverbrook Diner, the metallic taste of blood exploding across my tongue before I could even swallow my coffee.
"Don't move, trash!" a heavy voice snarled above me.
I’m Eli Turner. Two years ago, I was a decorated Army Special Forces operative with Top Secret clearance at the Pentagon, executing covert intelligence...
Part 1
My name is Annabelle Thompson. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old piano instructor in suburban Pennsylvania, and forty-eight hours ago, I discovered that my own blood could slit my throat with a smile.
I was standing in the living room of my grandmother’s Victorian home in Chester County, staring at the floor in paralyzed disbelief. The antique 1892 Steinway concert grand piano—the...
Part 1
I’m Annabelle Thompson, a twenty-eight-year-old classical piano teacher, and the second my key turned in my grandmother’s front door, my stomach dropped through the floorboards.
The living room was hollow. Where Grandma Eleanor’s prized 1892 Steinway concert grand piano had stood for fifty years, there was only a gaping, dented rectangle in the sun-bleached Persian rug.
My heart hammered against...
Part 1
My name is Lauren Bennett, I’m twenty-nine years old, and ten minutes ago, two sheriff’s cruisers blocked my driveway with their sirens howling into the freezing Colorado air. Before I could even undo the deadbolt of my late grandfather’s mountain lodge, Deputy Miller was thrusting an emergency eviction notice into my chest.
Behind him stood my mother, Evelyn, wearing...
PART 2 — A GHOST I KNEW BY NAME
“Elias Voss,” I told Agent Reyes. “That was his name. He ran my last overseas assignment.”
Reyes watched the video again. “His death was reported in 2014?”
“An explosion outside a safe house. No body recovered. The agency held a memorial and closed the file.”
In the years after, I'd wanted to believe Elias...
Part 2
I sat frozen in the driver’s seat, my pulse hammering in my throat as six Army Rangers in full dress uniform marched off the church steps. They didn't look back. Traffic on the two-lane highway screeched to a halt as Jake led his men straight across the asphalt, their eyes locked onto my battered Tacoma.
Behind them, absolute chaos...
