118. Dark Alley

The elevator jolted slightly as it halted on the ground floor, its metallic doors parting with a reluctant hiss. Ashley bolted out like breath held too long, chest rising and falling as though the silence upstairs still chased her. Her heels clicked frantically against the polished marble of the empty lobby, a ghostly metronome in a building that had long since fallen asleep.

Glass doors slid open at her approach. The night air slapped her cheeks—cool and sharp, cutting through her panic like icy water. She stepped onto the sidewalk, her bag slung awkwardly over her shoulder, glancing left and right. The street was mostly deserted, but the amber glow of street lamps painted puddles of light on the wet asphalt.

And then, as if the universe threw her a bone, a taxi drifted by—slow, almost eerie in its timing.

Ashley raised her hand with urgency, and the taxi stopped with a sigh of brakes. She climbed in, closing the door with fingers that still trembled.

“Where to?” the driver asked without turning around.

“Bel Air Apartments,” she said quickly.

The driver gave a low grunt of acknowledgement and began to pull away.

Ashley leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. The taxi smelled faintly of stale coffee and tobacco. But for the first time that night, the fear began to ease—at least for a breath or two.

City lights passed them by like scattered fireflies, but soon, the familiar urban landscape began to shift. Buildings grew sparse. Street lamps are fewer. The road narrowed, its edges swallowed by tall trees and skeletal shadows. Asphalt became patchy and worn.

Ashley’s brow furrowed.

She opened her eyes wider now, pressing her face gently toward the window. This… this wasn’t right. She had only moved to the city two months ago, but she had made the trip from her office to her apartment every day. She knew the route. There was a clear rhythm to it—a stretch of busy intersections, a convenience store on the corner, a mural of a crane painted on a crumbling wall near a flower shop.

None of it was here.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice unsure. “This… doesn’t look familiar. Are we going the right way?”

The driver didn’t answer at first. His hands were tight on the steering wheel, thick fingers curling over the leather like roots. Then, with a flat voice, he replied, “Shortcut. It’s faster.”

Ashley tried to smile, though her lips barely moved. “Oh. Okay.”

But her gut didn’t ease. The further they drove, the deeper the night seemed to grow around them. Trees leaned in from either side of the narrow road, their limbs clawing at the windows like they had something to say. The headlights barely pierced the darkness, and there wasn’t another car in sight.

Ashley sat up straighter. Her fingers fidgeted with the zipper on her bag.

“Sorry,” she said again, her voice a little louder this time, “but are you sure this is the right way? I don’t mind if it takes longer—we can take the main road instead. I’ll pay extra.”

The driver’s jaw shifted slightly, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead. “I told you,” he said, slower now, “this way’s quicker. You’ll be home soon.”

His tone was cold. Not aggressive, not quite. But it lacked reassurance. Lacked humanity.

Ashley’s heart started to beat faster again. She tried to breathe, slow and quiet. From the rearview mirror, she could see his eyes now. Not just once, not just in a glance—but repeatedly. Watching her. Like checking on something fragile in the backseat.

She averted her gaze quickly.

She had to think. Rationally. This could still be nothing. She had no proof. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe this was really a shortcut.

She slipped her phone out of her bag and, with slow, careful movements, opened her maps app. Her fingers were slick with sweat. The blue dot blinked—yes, they were moving, still heading toward Bel Air.

And the route… was faster. Technically.

She should have felt relief.

But the silence in the car was unnatural. The way he gripped the wheel, the way his eyes kept flicking back—there was something wrong. Something off. He didn’t look like a taxi driver. More like a dockworker. His arms were thick, muscular. His hair was shaved close, and a jagged scar cut through one of his eyebrows like a lightning bolt. A worn hoodie clung to his shoulders, concealing his frame in folds of shadow.

Her hand hovered near her phone again.

Josh, she thought.

In this strange and new place for her, only Josh and Mark were known to her. She obviously couldn't bother Mark because their relationship was very different now. But she could still ask Josh to help her. He was the only person in this city she trusted, even slightly. She could call him. Ask him to meet her somewhere. Say she was feeling unsafe.

But…

Her eyes flicked back to the driver. What if he heard the call? What if he knew she was suspicious? Would that provoke him?

She looked out the window again. The road was deserted. No houses. No shops. Just darkness. If she asked to get out now, where would she even go? She would be alone on the roadside, trapped between trees and shadows, without signal or light.

Her hand trembled.

Suddenly, a thought sparked in her mind. Something smaller. Quieter. Smarter.

Ashley opened her messages. Her fingers danced quickly this time, shielding the screen with her coat.

To Josh

Please track my location. I’m sending it now.

If anything happens… just please watch.

She hit the option for “Share Live Location.” Her heart pounded harder now, but at least the fear had something to hold onto—action. A small anchor in the sea of dread.

The car kept moving. Faster now. The road twisted like a serpent through the woods.

From the rearview mirror, the driver’s eyes locked on hers again. Ashley met his gaze, but this time, she didn’t look away. She forced her mouth into a weak smile.

“I used to live in a small town,” she lied softly. “So quiet roads like this creep me out a bit. I hope I’m not being paranoid.”

He didn’t respond. But something in his jaw twitched.

Ashley turned her face back to the window, but her hand never left her phone. Her eyes stayed sharp. She watched every movement, every change in the road. Every mile felt like a lifetime now.

She didn’t know what was waiting at the end of this road. But someone else knew where she was now. And she would hold onto that thread for dear life.