The Target
“I’m not leaving until I finish this.”
Scarlet Hayes tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder as she adjusted the fabric draped over the mannequin in front of her.
“You said that three hours ago,” her best friend Diana groaned through the line. “It’s almost nine, Scarlet. Go home.”
“I can’t,” Scarlet muttered, stepping back to examine the silhouette. “The deadline is tomorrow morning. If I don’t get this right, Professor Lin is going to destroy me.”
“That man terrifies me,” her friend said.
Scarlet glanced around the studio. Rows of mannequins stood under dim lighting, draped in unfinished garments. Sketches were scattered across tables. The hum of the air-conditioning filled the silence.
Too quiet.
“Relax,” Scarlet said lightly. “Security’s around. I’m fine.”
“Mm-hmm. Famous last words.”
Scarlet rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Go eat your dinner and stop worrying about me.”
“Text me when you leave.” Diana said.
“I will.”
“You better.”
The call ended.
Silence settled over the studio again. Scarlet exhaled softly and turned back to her work.
Focus.
The fabric slipped smoothly between her fingers as she adjusted the waistline, her mind narrowing in on details, structure, balance, movement. This was her world. The only place where everything made sense.
Minutes blurred into an hour. Maybe more.
Her phone buzzed suddenly against the table, breaking the stillness. Scarlet frowned and picked it up.
Dad.
Guilt hit instantly.
“Where are you? Dinner’s waiting”
Her stomach dropped.
“Oh no…”
She straightened slowly, realization sinking in.
Dinner.
She had promised him.Tonight. Out of all nights.
Scarlet pressed her lips together, her chest tightening. Her father wasn’t someone who stayed in one place for long. He was always flying; meetings, deals, countries she couldn’t keep track of. Seeing him required planning. And she had forgotten.
“God…” she whispered under her breath. Quickly, she typed back.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I got caught up with my project. I completely lost track of time.”
The reply came faster than she expected.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ll reschedule. Focus on your project.”
Scarlet stared at the message for a second longer than necessary. That almost made it worse. Her grip on the phone tightened slightly. With a sigh, she set the phone down and forced herself to turn back to the mannequin. She had to finish this project.
But something had shifted.
The silence didn’t feel peaceful anymore. It felt heavy.
Scarlet stilled. Her fingers paused against the fabric. A strange feeling crept up her spine. Like she wasn’t alone. Slowly, she looked around the studio again. The mannequins stood exactly where they had been. The sketches hadn’t moved.Nothing was different.
And yet..
Her heart started beating faster. The air suddenly felt colder. Quieter. Too quiet.
That was it.
She grabbed her bag quickly, shoving her sketchbook and materials inside without bothering to organize them. The earlier determination to finish her project vanished completely.
She switched off the studio lights and stepped out into the corridor. It was dark and empty. Her heels clicked faster against the floor as she walked.
Then…
She heard it.
Footsteps. Behind her.
Scarlet’s breath hitched. She didn’t stop. Didn’t turn. Her pace quickened, almost breaking into a run.
The footsteps followed. Steady. Unhurried. Close.
“Oh god… no, no, no…” she whispered under her breath.
Her heart pounded violently against her chest as she pushed through the exit doors and rushed into the parking lot. Cold air hit her face.
Her white Mini Cooper, Just a few steps away. Relief flooded her. She fumbled for her keys, her hands slightly shaking as she reached the driver’s door.
Just open it.
Just get inside.
Just…
A hand wrapped around her wrist firmly.
Scarlet froze. Every muscle in her body locked. Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, her gaze dropped to the hand holding her.
Large.
Strong.
Warm.
Not a ghost.
Something worse.
Someone.
Her pulse roared in her ears as a presence stepped closer behind her. Close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. Close enough for her to stop breathing.
A low voice brushed against her ear.
“Running already?”
