Chapter 2

I got in touch with a real estate agent first thing in the morning.

The agent told me that listings were tight and that nothing would be available until next week at the earliest.

I had no choice but to suck it up and stick around until then.

By avoiding Logan, I should be fine… right?

That was what I kept telling myself.

Murphy’s Law always kicked in.

When I stepped out of the apartment in the morning, the door across the hallway opened.

Dressed in a sharp suit, Logan seemed to be on his way out to work.

He held a food container in his hand.

Spotting me, he raised a brow.

The digits above his head were 1,115.

It went up again.

Before I could shrink back, Logan said something.

“Morning.”

I squeezed out a reply, “Morning.”

The plan I had in mind was to bolt to the elevator, but it was all the way down in the lobby.

We were stuck together, waiting in the narrow hallway.

The silence in the air was suffocating.

“I take it that you skipped breakfast?”

Out of nowhere, he handed his lunchbox to me.

“I made an extra sandwich. It would be a waste to throw it away.”

I stared at the blue container.

Scenes from horror movies played in my mind.

I hoped the food wasn’t laced with rat poison.

Maybe there was some kind of sedative to knock me out.

“I’m okay. Thanks. I have a cafeteria at work.”

Letting out a dry chuckle, I turned him down.

Logan didn’t even pull his arm back; his hand still extended toward me.

His gaze was icy.

The numbers hovering on top of his head spiked to 1,120.

He was mad.

I guessed it was because I said no.

If I refused the food, would he attack me right there and then?

There were no cameras around here.

No one would know if Logan killed me.

I took the lunch box with trembling hands.

My fingertips grazed against his, and they were cold to the touch.

“Thank you,” I squeaked.

He withdrew his hand, looking pleased with himself.

The number dropped back down to 1,115.

At last, the elevator arrived.

I bolted right in.

He was right behind me.

There were just two of us in the tiny shaft.

He stood behind me.

I caught him staring at me through the reflection on the stainless steel.

With his gaze falling on my throat, Logan was probably wondering about the best angle to go for the kill.

I felt chills down the back of my neck.

“You seem terrified of me,” he spoke suddenly.

I shuddered.

“N-No.” I denied.

“Oh, really?” He chuckled.

The elevator reached the lobby.

The moment the elevator doors slid open, I felt alive again.

“Goodbye!”

I sprinted out without looking back the moment the words escaped my lips.

Once outside the community, I felt safe enough to stop.

The lunch box felt heavy in my hand.

I spotted a trash can in the middle of nowhere and dumped the container.

I felt bad, but there was no way I was touching the food.

It never occurred to me that I had been watched.

When I came home at night, I ran into Logan in the lobby.

He stood in the shadows, a cigarette between his fingers.

The orange ember flickered.

The dim light pulsed, throwing grim shadows over his brooding face.

The number, 1,150, was vivid above his head.

He had seen me dumping the sandwich.

I froze.

Should I make a run for it? Where to, though?

This was the only way home.

He killed the cigarette and headed toward me.

His leather shoes clicked against the ground.

“Was it not to your liking?”

He stopped just inches away, looming over me.

The sheer weight of his presence sucked the air right out of me.

“I-I just forgot. By the time I remembered, it went bad…”

I made up a sad lie.

He looked at me, long and hard.

A smile broke across his face, but his eyes remained indifferent.

“Next time, I’ll watch you eat it.”

Turning on his heel, he sauntered into the building.

I stood there, cold sweat soaking my back.

Was there going to be a next time?

Would I live until my move next week?