Horror Nights
another notification bloomed on the screen, this one a direct message.
J: "I’m in the neighborhood. I saw your location ping. I’m driving a black sedan, plates ending in 442. I’m outside. Come down?"
My heart did a jittery, nervous dance. It was impulsive—monumentally stupid, by any reasonable metric—but the sheer boldness of it was intoxicating. In a city where everything was a slow-burn of awkward small talk and ghosting, this felt like an action movie. It was a jolt of adrenaline that I desperately needed. I didn’t even bother to change. I just grabbed my jacket, checked my reflection in the hallway mirror—a pale, slightly disheveled figure—and locked the door.
Hot Chapters