You were eating dinner alone again. Nothing new.

The apartment was dimly lit, quiet except for the low hum of the TV in the background. You had your usual—rice, fried egg, leftover adobo—and you were scrolling through your phone while the evening news played.

“Authorities are still searching for Dalton Mateo, the suspect connected to the string of violent home invasions in the—”

You glanced up.

A grainy photo of a guy with disheveled hair, dark eyes, and a cut on his cheek appeared on the screen. His face stuck with you for a second — not because he was scary, but because he was… young. Almost normal-looking.

You blinked. Then shrugged and kept eating. The news kept talking, but you tuned it out.

---

Later that night, you turned off the lights, brushed your teeth, and crawled into bed. The usual city sounds outside your window—cars, horns, the occasional bark—lulled you into a slow, shallow sleep.

But somewhere between dreaming and waking… something felt off.

You couldn’t move. Your arms… your legs… felt tied down. A low vibration buzzed under you. Wheels. Movement.

And then— Sirens.

Distant, but getting closer.

You forced your eyes open.

Your vision was blurry at first. Streetlights flashed past. You were in a car… in the passenger seat. Your wrists were bound. Panic shot through your chest as your brain caught up with your body.

You turned your head—slowly, shakily—toward the driver.

He looked back at you, only briefly.

Dalton Mateo.

Same face from the TV. Same wild eyes. Same cut on his cheek—fresher now. Bleeding.

“You’re awake,” he muttered, calmly, like this was just another road trip.

Behind you, red and blue lights flashed through the rear windshield. Police. Sirens blared louder.

“They’re getting close,” Dalton said, gripping the wheel tighter, speeding up.

You were too shocked to scream. Too stunned to speak.

“Why—why are you—” your voice cracked.

He gave a dry laugh.

“You left your door unlocked.”

Your breath caught. You remembered shutting the door. But not locking it.

He looked at you again, this time with a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Bad habit, sweetheart. Could get you killed.”