LILA The following day found me once more standing before Mrs. Green's doorstep, this time alone and imploring. Tim, my bodyguard, was not with me today. I thought that perhaps presenting myself alone would engender a greater sense of comfort and empathy from the woman. "Hello, Mrs. Green," I greeted, infusing my voice with a touch of desperation and plea. "Could you spare a moment to listen to me?" As she remained silent and motionless, I decided to appeal to her conscience. "Mrs Green, please understand that I'm a mother, and I've been separated from my two-year-old since yesterday. If you could kindly grant me access to complete my job and return to my waiting child, I would be immensely grateful. I cannot leave until the task is done—." Before I could complete my plea, the door swung open abruptly, revealing Mrs. Green's stern countenance. I met her gaze, silently pleading for entry. She scanned her surroundings before stepping aside, permitting me to enter. Initially

AUTHOR'S P.O.V. Tim, dressed in the shadows with his all-black attire, stealthily navigated through the dense underbrush, determined not to alert the ever-watchful Mrs. Green. Fortunately, the moon had chosen to hide its luminous face that night, shrouding him in obscurity. His silent footsteps led him closer to the backyard of the house, which lay veiled in profound darkness, with only a faint glimmer from a lantern casting feeble light into the hallway. With deft carefulness, Tim picked the lock of the kitchen door, and within moments, the door yielded to his skilled touch. As he entered, he closed the door with painstaking care, but it let out a faint, protesting creak. A sudden crack from within the house prompted him to hide himself, holding his breath. Moments later, Mrs. Green emerged, gripping a shotgun, and sweeping it vigilantly from one corner of the house to the next. Tim knew that her senses were keen, and she could recognise his scent in an instant. Drawing

AUTHOR'S P.OV. In the stillness of the night, Amanda's sleep was abruptly interrupted by the insistent buzzing of her phone. Groggily lifting her head, she glanced at the glowing screen with an annoyed sigh, deciding to ignore the call and nestling back into her pillow. "I would answer if I were you," a deep, male voice resonated through the room. At first, the intrusion didn't fully register in Amanda's sleep-fogged brain, her drowsy state clouded her comprehension. She groaned, turning over to bury her face in her pillow, her desire for rest overpowering her curiosity. Then, the startling reality hit her like a cold wave: she was supposed to be alone. Her eyes flew open, her brow furrowing in confusion and fear. A man had spoken to her within the sanctuary of her bedroom. Panic surged through her, and she abruptly sat up in bed, reaching for the bedside lamp. In its soft glow, a figure materialized, concealed within dark robes and a hood that veiled their ident

AUTHOR'S P.O.V. Dr Richard concealed himself beneath the inky depths of a black hoodie and robe, his movements quick as he vacated the hotel room. He stood still at the garage, his ears straining for even the faintest of sounds, but all remained eerily silent. His eyes darted thoroughly surveying his surroundings, but no discernible presence lurked nearby. Satisfied, he slipped into his car, ignited the engine, and eased out of the hotel's garage. Meanwhile, within a dimly lit room, two men hunched before their computer screens, their eyes tracking Dr. Richard's car as it exited from the garage. One of them, with a finger pressed to an earpiece, relayed a terse message. "He is on the move." Dr Richard accelerated, his foot heavy on the gas pedal, as the monotonous road stretched endlessly before him, bereft of other vehicles. The moon had chosen to withhold its luminous presence that night, yet his headlights carved a luminous path through the obscurity. An ho