Chapter 15

The soft, muted light of dawn filtered through the living room window as I blinked awake. I was lying on Ryan’s couch, his arm draped over me protectively. We must have fallen asleep here last night, too exhausted to make it to the bedroom. His presence was a comfort, his steady breathing a reminder that, for now at least, we were safe.

I took a moment to enjoy the warmth of his body next to mine, the rise and fall of his chest against my back. It was a rare moment of peace in what had become a constant state of anxiety and fear. But as much as I wanted to stay wrapped up in this small, quiet world we’d created, I knew it couldn’t last. The real world was waiting for us—chaotic, unpredictable, and dangerous.

Ryan stirred behind me, his arm tightening slightly before he slowly woke up. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, turning to face him. His hair was tousled, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was a small smile on his lips—a brief glimpse of normalcy in a life that had become anything but.

“We should get ready,” he said after a moment, though neither of us made any immediate move to get up. There was an unspoken understanding between us that these moments of quiet were precious, something to hold onto in the face of everything else.

But eventually, the responsibilities we couldn’t ignore pulled us from the couch. We dressed quickly, the silence between us comfortable, though tinged with the tension that had become all too familiar. After a hurried breakfast, we stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The street was quiet, the neighborhood still waking up. But something felt off, a sense of unease settling over me that I couldn’t quite place.

our elderly neighbor, was standing in front of her house, her hands pressed to her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly looked to where she was staring.

Her dog, a sweet old Labrador lay motionless on the ground. A pool of blood had formed around him, dark and sinister against the pale concrete. It only took a second to realize what had happened, but the realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

The dog had been shot.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, my legs suddenly feeling weak. Ryan’s hand found mine, squeezing it tightly as we both stared at the tragic scene.

“Amira, stay here,” Ryan said, his voice tense. “I’ll go check on her.”

But I couldn’t stay still. My feet were already moving, carrying me toward her as she knelt beside her beloved pet. Ryan followed close behind, his expression grim.

I said softly, kneeling beside her. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears and anguish. “Why would someone do this?” she cried, her voice breaking. “Max never hurt anyone! He was a good dog—he didn’t deserve this!”

I reached out to comfort her, but my hands were shaking too much. The sight of Max lying there, so lifeless, made my stomach churn. The world felt like it was spinning out of control, and I had to force myself to stay grounded, to not let the panic overwhelm me.

Ryan crouched beside us, his hand resting on his old lady’s shoulder. “We’ll call the police,” he said gently. “They need to know about this.”

I nodded, but my mind was already racing. This couldn’t be a random act of violence. It was too precise, too cruel. And it was happening right next door. My thoughts spiraled, connecting dots I didn’t want to connect.

“We need to go,” Ryan said softly, pulling me back to the present. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

I wanted to argue, to stay and comfort the elderly neighbours, but the truth was, I didn’t know what to say. Nothing could make this better, and the longer we stayed, the more vulnerable we were. Reluctantly, I let Ryan lead me away, my heart heavy with sorrow and fear.

The drive to the hospital was quiet. Ryan kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my knee in a gesture of comfort. I stared out the window, my mind replaying the scene over and over. Max’s lifeless body, his owner’s heartbroken cries—these were images I wouldn’t be able to forget anytime soon.

But more than that, I kept thinking about the implications. If this was connected to the threats against me, then it meant the danger was closer than ever. And Ryan—he was right in the middle of it, too. The thought of losing him, of something happening to him because of me, was unbearable.

When we finally arrived at the hospital, I tried to push my fears aside and focus on the tasks ahead. But it was impossible. The sight of Max, the sound of his neighbour’s sobs, they haunted me, following me through the corridors like shadows I couldn’t shake.

Ryan noticed, of course. He always did. As we walked down the hall toward our respective departments, he slowed his pace, his eyes searching mine.

“Amira, are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I forced a smile, but it felt hollow. “I’m fine. Just… shaken up, I guess.”

“I understand. That was… awful.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But we’ll get through this. Together.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, but my voice lacked conviction. The weight of everything that had happened, and everything that could still happen, was pressing down on me like a ton of bricks.

Ryan stopped walking, turning to face me fully. “Amira, listen to me,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “We’re going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”