Her heart kicked against her ribs. Once. Twice. Hard enough that she felt it in her throat. The phone felt too heavy in her hand. She stared at the screen, reading it again. Again. The words didn't change.
"Rachel." Ghost's voice cut through the buzzing in her ears. "What does it say?"
She turned the phone toward him without speaking.
His jaw tightened. He took the phone from her hands, studying the message. "When did this come in?"
"Just now."
He stood, already moving. "Stay here."
She watched him disappear down the hallway toward the bedroom. Her hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against the table but couldn't make them stop. Her breath was coming too fast, too shallow. They knew. They knew she was here. Not here specifically, they didn't know about Ghost's house, but close enough. Too close.
Ghost came back, phone pressed to his ear. "Echo. I need a trace on a number. Unknown sender, threatening message." He rattled off her phone number and the timestamp. "Yeah, now would be good."
Rachel's chest felt tight. She focused on breathing. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. But the panic sat there anyway, cold and heavy beneath her sternum.
Ghost ended the call and came back to the table. He crouched beside her chair, one hand covering both of hers where they pressed against the wood. "Hey. Look at me."
She met his eyes.
"They don't know where you are," he said. "San Diego's a big city. They're fishing. Trying to scare you."
"It's working."
His hand squeezed hers. "I know. But you're safe here. This place doesn't exist on paper. There's no way to trace you to it." His thumb brushed across her knuckles. "They can't find you. I won't let them."
Rachel nodded, trying to slow her breathing. "Okay."
"Echo's going to trace the number. We'll see where it leads." He studied her face. "You with me?"
"Yeah. I'm with you."
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Good. Because we're not stopping. We're going to bury these bastards."
Rachel let out a shaky breath and nodded. Ghost stood, but his hand stayed on her shoulder. His palm was warm through her shirt, grounding her.
They went back to work. But Rachel couldn’t shake the panic sitting in her chest. They were still hunting her, still out there, and now they were getting closer.
***
That evening, Ghost ordered Thai food. They ate on the couch, boxes spread across the coffee table, some crime procedural playing quietly on the TV. The smell of basil and lemongrass filled the room. Rachel curled into the corner of the sofa, feet tucked under her, picking at pad thai with chopsticks. The noodles were slick with peanut sauce, bits of crushed peanut and cilantro scattered through.
Ghost sat beside her, close but not crowding. He'd changed into a different T-shirt, navy blue and soft from wear. He was working through panang curry, the red sauce rich and fragrant with coconut milk.
"You okay?" he asked after a while.
Rachel set her box on the table. "Just keeps running through my head. That text."
"I know."
She turned to look at him. "What if they find me, Logan? What if they find us?"
"They won't." His voice was certain. "But if they do, they'll have to go through me first."
The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, like it was already decided, made her chest tighten.
"I don't want you getting hurt because of me."
