Chapter 1
I knew their routines before they even knew my name.
Or so I thought.
Conrad—every day, like clockwork, he’d leave for work at exactly 5:15 a.m. Fridays were strange. He started a little later then, so he left at 5:30 instead.
I knew that because I watched.
I watched from across the street. From behind windows. From parked cars. From places no one would think twice about looking.
Conrad was predictable. Predictable was good.
Griffin was the opposite.
Careless. Disorganized. Always running late to class. He never arrived before 10:05 a.m., and even that was usually cutting it close. He went to every class except second and third period. During those hours, he disappeared beneath the bleachers to drink and smoke.
I knew exactly where he sat.
I knew which entrance he used.
I knew how long he stayed.
Axel was almost always with him, stuck to Griffin like he was afraid of being left behind. Wherever Griffin went, Axel followed.
Except Thursdays.
Every Thursday at 11:00 a.m., Axel had therapy with Dr. Brown.
That was the one thing that never changed.
Sebastian was different.
Precise. Perfect.
He arrived at work an hour early every single day and stayed three hours after his shift ended. He never seemed rushed. Never seemed tired. Everything about him was measured, controlled.
Even the way he walked.
Everest was probably the easiest of them all.
4:00 a.m.—gym.
5:30 a.m.—shower.
7:00 a.m.—leave for work.
Every day.
No exceptions.
He didn’t like change.
Neither did I.
That was why I liked them.
Every night, each of them arrived home before 11:00 p.m.
Sometimes earlier.
Never later.
I preferred it that way.
Nice.
Consistent.
Reliable.
I knew when their lights would turn on. I knew which windows belonged to which apartment. I knew who usually came home first and who dragged their feet until the very last minute.
I even knew which curtains moved when they walked past the windows.
Their lives had patterns.
Patterns were comforting.
Until tonight.
Tonight was wrong.
Not one of them came home on time.
Not Conrad.
Not Griffin.
Not Sebastian.
Not Axel.
Not Everest.
All five of my men were late.
Very late.
At first, I wasn’t worried.
People were allowed to be late.
Things happened.
Cars broke down. Classes ran long. Work meetings happened. Friends got distracted.
But four hours was different.
Four hours was enough to make me start checking the clock every few minutes.
The abandoned building across from their apartment complex was cold tonight. The kind of cold that settled into your fingers and made them stiff. Dust covered the floor around me, and somewhere deeper inside the building, water dripped steadily from a broken pipe.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I barely noticed anymore.
My attention was fixed across the street.
Every window in the apartment complex was dark.
Except for the college kids.
Their lights were always on.
I hated those windows.
They were too bright. Too unpredictable.
I preferred the third floor.
Third window on the right side from the middle.
Their window.
The one I always watched.
I had spent countless nights staring at it, waiting for the familiar glow of a lamp or the shadow of one of them crossing the curtains.
Tonight, though, there was nothing.
No movement.
No headlights.
No doors opening.
Nothing.
I’d been sitting there for four hours.
Normally, I only stayed for an hour.
Maybe two if I was feeling patient.
Four hours was excessive.
Four hours and twenty-three minutes.
Then four hours and thirty minutes.
I checked the time again.
Still nothing.
I pulled my knees closer and rested my chin against them.
Where were they?
For the first time, I wondered if something had happened.
Not something bad.
Just something different.
And I hated different.
I had built my nights around consistency. I knew where they would be, when they’d leave, when they’d return, when their lights would go out.
I knew them.
Or at least, I thought I did.
Then headlights appeared at the end of the street.
I sat up immediately.
One car.
Then another.
Then another.
My heart began beating faster.
Finally.
They were coming home.
I smiled.
I watched as the five of them made their way toward the apartment building, their silhouettes briefly illuminated by the passing streetlights.
I counted them automatically.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
All there.
Good.
Finally.
Everything could go back to normal.
I didn’t know then that tonight was going to be different.
I didn’t know that one of them was going to notice me.
Sebastian.
He stopped.
Not slowed.
Not hesitated.
Stopped.
Completely.
My smile disappeared.
Sebastian stood in the middle of the sidewalk and turned his head toward the abandoned building.
Toward me.
My stomach tightened.
No.
That wasn’t possible.
The building was completely black.
I had made sure of it.
There were no lights on anywhere near me. No glowing phone screen. No flashlight. Nothing that could give away where I was sitting.
He couldn’t see me.
Could he?
I held my breath.
Sebastian continued staring directly at the building.
More specifically…
At the window.
My window.
I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
For a second, neither of us seemed to exist anywhere except in that moment.
Then Sebastian reached into his pocket.
My heart jumped.
He pulled out his phone.
Why was he getting his phone?
I watched his fingers move across the screen.
One message.
Maybe two.
I couldn’t tell from this distance.
Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket and walked inside.
I waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
One minute.
Only then did I reach for my own phone.
It was vibrating against my leg.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
My fingers went cold.
I stared at the screen.
No name.
No number I recognized.
Just:
Unknown Sender
My thumb hovered over the notification.
I shouldn’t open it.
I knew that.
I opened it anyway.
Unknown Sender:
You shouldn’t be watching us, little bunny.
My stomach dropped.
For several seconds, I couldn’t breathe.
The room suddenly felt much colder.
He shouldn’t have been able to see me.
He shouldn’t have known I was there.
No one knew.
At least…
That’s what I thought.
I stared at the message again.
Little bunny.
The nickname made my skin crawl.
I slowly looked back toward the apartment complex.
The third-floor window was still dark.
But now I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was standing behind it.
Watching me.
Just like I had been watching them.
And for the first time since I started keeping track of their lives, I wondered something I had never allowed myself to wonder before.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one keeping track.
