“They asked you because you’ve worked your ass off.” Sarah softens, the note of teasing in her voice fading. “You’ve earned this. Yes, the Ghost thing is part of it, but it’s not the whole picture. Don’t discredit all the work you’ve done. Or all the people you’ve helped. Including me.”

Her words hit a tender spot. On impulse, I throw my arms around her. She hugs me back and pats my back as if I’m the victim. Not her.

Sarah doesn’t bring it up often, but when she mentions the way I testified in court, I want to smile and throw up. Prison is too good for Frank “Skinner” Burns. The serial rapist deserves to burn in hell and have his dick cut off. Not necessarily in that order.

When Sarah was crumbling under the weight of her trauma, I was there. I helped her find her footing again, guided her through the storm she thought she’d never escape. She’s always credited me for that, though I’ve never felt like I did anything extraordinary. Listening, supporting, or even testifying—that’s what you’re supposed to do for the people you care about.

In the end, Sarah’s right. I’ve done important work that was due to my profession, and I should be recognized.

After pulling back, I exhale slowly, leaning my head against the headrest. “You’re right. They’re lucky to have me. I just hate public speaking.”

“I’m always right. Which is why you should let me pick your dress.”

“Fine.”

Sarah claps her hands, releasing a tiny squeal, and I immediately regret my decision. Or I would if her face wasn’t so joyful. I’d give that keynote speech butt-naked to make my best friend happy. Hopefully, she doesn’t consider that as an option.

The driver clears his throat, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “This your stop?”

I look out the window at my apartment building, the familiar silhouette looming in the dark. “Yeah.” I reach for the door handle but pause, turning to Sarah. “Promise me the dress will be something appropriate.”

Sarah grins, shaking her head. “Appropriate is not in my vocabulary. I’ll find you something that screams, ‘Professional who likes to get railed on the regular.’” She winks.

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks. I think.”

She waves me off, but her smile is warm. “Text me later, okay? And seriously, stop underestimating yourself. You’re going to kill it.”

“Thanks.”

I exit the car and step into the crisp night air. As the ride share pulls away, taking Sarah with it, I stand there for a moment, staring up at my building. The windows are dark, save for the glow of the one that belongs to me. Everything looks as it should, but there’s an unease that crawls up my spine. It’s something I’ve been experiencing ever since I first laid eyes on Ghost.

I shake off the unpleasant feeling and head toward the entrance. It’s just nerves from thinking about the keynote. Nothing more. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I walk into the elevator and press the button for my floor.

The doors slide open a minute later, and I step into the dimly lit hallway. My footsteps echo softly against the tiled floor as I make my way to my apartment, fishing my keys from my purse. I unlock the door and push it open with a sigh of relief. The familiar scent of lavender greets me, coming from the diffuser I forgot to turn off.

Everything seems normal…

I lock the door behind me and set my purse down on the counter, flicking on the rest of the lights. My apartment is quiet and peaceful. It’s my sanctuary from the evil in the world that I face every day. But the longer I stand there, the more the sense of foreboding grows, until the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and my breath catches in my throat.

Something’s different.

I can’t pinpoint it immediately, but the air is dense now, charged with an invisible tension. My heart rate picks up as I scan the room, my gaze darting to every corner. Finding nothing doesn’t stop me from striding across the room to grab the baseball bat by the back door. Hefting it into a defensive stance, I make my way to my bedroom.

When I push the door open, I freeze.

On my bed, next to my stuffed elephant, sits a box. It’s pristine and beautiful, white and tied with a maroon ribbon that gleams in the soft light of the room. My stomach drops, and my pulse roars in my ears.

Eyes locked on the package, I take a step forward, my breathing shallow. The stuffed elephant, usually perched on my dresser, has been moved. The sight of it, paired with the box, makes my hands shake and the bat wobbles in my grasp.

I approach the bed slowly and reach out on instinct but stop just short of touching the ribbon. Who sent this to me? And how in the fuck did they get into my apartment?

My first thought is Sarah. It’s hopelessly naïve of me, but that doesn’t stop my train of thought. She’s the only person who has a key. My friend could’ve snuck in earlier and left this gift here to cheer me up or to celebrate my achievements.

But I know Sarah. She wouldn’t do this. She knows how much I need my home to feel safe and untouched. On the off chance it was her, she wouldn’t have moved the elephant.

After setting my bat on the bed, I reach down and pick up the ivory card tucked under the ribbon. My fingers tremble as I open it, the elegant script staring back at me like a taunt.

Magnolias bloom, masking death’s decay.

Illuminating the shadows, where I wait.

Never let the flame that binds us fade.

Every breath you take is mine to claim.

The words blur as a wave of nausea washes over me. My knees go weak, and I sink onto the edge of the bed, clutching the card in my hands. My heart pounds against my ribs, hard and fast, as if trying to escape my chest.

He was here.

Ghost was here, in my home. In my bedroom. The thought is paralyzing, and my body stiffens although my mind races with questions I can’t answer. How did he get in? How long was he here?

I glance around the room as if every shadow is alive and threatening. My breath comes in shallow pants as I clutch the card tighter, its words like a brand seared into my mind. The walls press in and the faint scent of magnolias fills the air. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now it’s undeniable.

My eyes dart to the corners of the room, to the closet, the curtains, the doorframe. Every creak, every distant sound from the building amplified, echoing in my ears like a war cry.

Is he still here?

The bat is within reach and I grab it, rising to my feet despite the unsteadiness in my legs. The card flutters to the mattress, forgotten as my survival instinct takes over. If he’s here, I have to know.

The closet is my first choice. I slowly open the door like there’s a bomb about to detonate. And… nothing but my clothes and shoes.

I move to the bathroom next, ripping open the door with less hesitation this time. The space is empty, but that doesn’t stop my heart from jumping in my throat.

“Get your shit together, Geneva,” I mutter. “Ghost wouldn’t have left the box if he was planning on talking to you.”

I sweep through the rest of the apartment, checking every corner, every hiding place, until I’m certain there’s no one here. The sense of being invaded, of having my space violated, clings to me. The magnolia scent lingers, stronger now, filling the air with its oppressive sweetness.

Back in the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed with the bat resting against my knees. I look at the box again, the ribbon still perfectly tied, the pristine white surface untouched. Curiosity rises, too strong for me to ignore.

“Damn it.”

My hands tremble as I untie the bow and lift the lid, revealing the candle inside. It’s smooth, polished, and elegant. A benign object, yet so deadly because of the giver.

“Why?” I whisper, the word barely audible over the pounding of my heart.