Then another.
My hand trembles slightly as I reach for the door, hovering over the handle.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
But I do it anyway. I unlock it. The click echoes like a gunshot. I pull the door open. Cold air rushes in but the porch is empty. But something lies on the ground right in front of the door.
A photograph.
My stomach turns as I crouch, picking it up.
It’s me. Again. Closer this time.
My face visible, eyes scanning the trees.
And written across the bottom, in sharp, deliberate strokes:
I see you.
My fingers tighten around the photo, my pulse hammering so hard it feels like it might crack my ribs open.
This isn’t in my head. This isn’t the wind. This isn’t nothing.
Someone is here.
Someone is watching me.
And they want me to know it.
Chapter 3
Maddie
Idon’t sleep that night.
Every sound cracks through the night like it’s meant for me—branches snapping, wind dragging across the cabin, something shifting just beyond the walls. I lie there with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling, the photograph burning in my mind.
I see you.
By morning, I’m done pretending this is nothing.
I sit at the small kitchen table, laptop open, fingers hovering over the keys. Coffee’s gone cold beside me. I haven’t touched it.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Think.”
Police.
The word sits heavy.
I could call them. Report it. Show them the photos.
And then what?
A bored deputy telling me it’s probably a prank? A warning to lock my doors and stay inside?
My jaw tightens.
No.
