West Third Street looked ordinary.
That was the worst part.
The apartment building was old but well-kept, brick washed pale by years of rain and dust. A flickering security light buzzed near the entrance, insects spiraling around it like moths to a bad idea. Somewhere above, a television murmured, laughter bleeding faintly through thin walls.
Life going on.
Unaware.
Noah stepped out of the car, jacket pulled tight, eyes already scanning. "Sixth floor," he muttered. "You sure about this?"
Evan stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the building. He hadn't answered immediately. His face had gone pale—not sick, not scared, but strained, like someone holding their breath for too long.
"It's louder now," Evan said finally.
Noah's spine stiffened. "Define louder."
Evan's fingers curled into the fabric of his coat. "Closer."
Rhea shot Noah a look. I told you so sat unspoken between them.
Kai checked his watch, then Noah. "Alright. No drama. We check, we verify, we leave. Everyone sticks together."
They entered the building.
The stairwell smelled like dust and cleaning chemicals. Each step echoed too loudly. Evan walked in the middle, Noah slightly ahead of him, close enough to feel his presence—too close for comfort, too far for control.
Halfway up the stairs, Evan stopped so abruptly Noah nearly ran into him.
"No," Evan whispered.
Noah grabbed his arm instinctively. "What?"
"This isn't where it ends," Evan said, breathing uneven now. "This is where it almost does."
Before Noah could respond—
A door slammed open above them.
The sound of something heavy crashing followed. A strangled gasp. Furniture scraping violently across the floor.
"Sixth floor," Noah barked. "Move!"
They took the stairs two at a time.
The apartment door was ajar.
Inside, chaos.
A man lay half-conscious on the floor, a lamp shattered nearby. A cord—phone charger—was wrapped loosely around his neck, already slack, abandoned. The attacker was gone.
Too late.
Or—
Evan staggered.
Noah barely caught him before he hit the wall.
"Evan!" Noah snapped.
Evan's breathing was erratic, hands trembling violently now. "He—he changed his mind," Evan gasped. "He didn't finish."
"Who?" Noah demanded.
Evan shook his head hard. "I don't know—I don't see faces—I just—" His knees buckled.
Noah lowered him to the floor without thinking, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "Stay with me. Look at me."
Evan's eyes were unfocused. "He wanted me," he whispered.
The words punched the air out of Noah's lungs.
"What do you mean he wanted you?"
"The intent—it shifted," Evan said, voice barely audible. "I felt it turn. Like—like noticing I was watching."
A chill crept up Noah's spine.
Rhea was already on her radio, calling for medical assistance. Kai knelt by the victim, calm and efficient, checking vitals. "He's alive," Kai said firmly. "Shaken, but alive."
Alive.
Barely.
Noah looked down at Evan again.
"You said the victim lived alone," Noah said slowly.
"I was wrong," Evan replied, eyes burning now—not with fear, but confusion. "Or it changed."
"That's convenient," Rhea snapped.
Evan flinched.
Noah didn't miss it.
"You almost died," Noah said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Evan laughed weakly. "No. This was mercy."
Noah's jaw tightened. "You call this mercy?"
"Yes," Evan said, meeting his eyes at last. "Because if he wanted me dead, I wouldn't be breathing right now."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
As officers flooded the scene, Noah helped Evan to his feet. His grip lingered a second longer than necessary. Evan didn't pull away.
"You're staying under protection," Noah said. "Whether you like it or not."
Evan nodded slowly. "He won't stop."
"Neither will I," Noah replied.
As they stepped back into the hallway, Evan's gaze drifted—not to Noah, not to the officers—but to the dark end of the corridor.
For just a moment, his expression twisted—not fear, not certainty.
Recognition.
And far away, unseen and untouched, someone had failed.
But failure, Noah would learn, was only another beginning.