At 2:07 a.m., the phone screen lit the dark room.

Unknown Number: I found her.

The message sat there for several seconds before another arrived.

Third floor. Blue curtains. Alone.

The silence inside the apartment suddenly felt dangerous. Outside, the hallway remained still—until three slow knocks landed on the door.

Not loud. Careful. Deliberate.

A third message came immediately after.

Don’t open it. I’m downstairs.

Before there was time to think, the lights cut out.

The apartment dropped into darkness.

Another knock sounded, this time lower, almost impatient.

Then footsteps—fast, coming up the stairwell.

By the time the hallway door downstairs slammed open, Tamsy Caines was already at the apartment entrance, breathing hard, one hand pressed against the door before the handle could turn from the outside.

“Stay behind me.”

The handle twisted once.

Then twice.

A shadow moved beneath the crack of the door.

Whoever stood outside did not knock again.

They only waited.

Tamsy Caines glanced toward the window, jaw tight, already calculating the distance to the fire escape.

“He knows this room now,” he said quietly. “So we leave now.”

The knocking finally returned—three harder hits that shook the frame.

This time, the voice on the other side came low and calm.

“I know you’re in there.”

And Tamsy Caines pulled the window open before the lock gave way.