The car waited for Evan outside the building.
It wasn't black.
It wasn't flashy.
It looked like every other sedan on the road.
That unsettled him more than anything else.
The driver didn't speak much—only nodded once when Evan got in and pulled smoothly into traffic. Evan sat in the back seat, backpack on his lap, watching the city slide past the window.
Everything looked the same.
That was the problem.
College felt surreal. Evan walked through familiar gates, past familiar faces, but the sense of normality was brittle, like glass ready to crack. Students laughed, complained, lived.
None of them knew.
He took his seat in class, heart racing, eyes scanning the room. No suits. No armed men. Just students and a bored professor.
You're fine, he told himself. This is your life.
Halfway through the lecture, Evan felt it.
That pressure again.
He turned his head slowly.
A man sat two rows back, dressed casually, eyes down, scrolling through his phone. Ordinary. Too ordinary. When Evan looked away, the man stood and exited the room.
Evan's pulse spiked.
His phone buzzed.
Victor: Focus.
Evan's breath caught.
Evan: You said I wasn't a prisoner.
Victor: You aren't.
Victor: Prisoners are guarded.
You're protected.
Evan clenched his jaw and forced his attention back to the lecture, though the words blurred together. Every movement around him felt magnified. Every laugh sounded too loud.
When class ended, his friend Mark caught up to him near the stairs.
"Hey," Mark said. "You disappeared last night. Everything okay?"
Evan hesitated—just long enough.
"Yes," he said. Too quickly.
Mark frowned. "You sure? You look—"
A man stepped between them.
"Sorry," the man said politely to Mark. "We're in a hurry."
Evan stiffened.
The man didn't touch him. Didn't grab him. Just placed a hand lightly on Evan's shoulder and guided him away.
Mark stared after them, confused.
"Who was that?" Mark called.
Evan didn't answer.
Outside, the man released Evan immediately.
"Don't isolate yourself," the man said calmly. "Victor doesn't like sudden changes."
Evan stared at him. "Does he watch everyone I talk to?"
The man smiled faintly. "Only the ones who matter."
The car was already waiting.
Evan climbed inside, hands shaking.
His phone buzzed again.
Victor: You handled that poorly.
Evan: I was talking to a friend.
Victor: Friends ask questions.
Evan swallowed.
Evan: You can't control everything.
The reply took longer this time.
Victor: I can control what touches you.
Evan closed his eyes.
That night, back in the room without locks, Evan sat on the bed staring at the city lights beyond the glass. His phone rested in his hand, heavy with unsent words.
He thought of Mark's confused face.
Of the way people moved around him without seeing the invisible lines tightening.
Victor hadn't raised his voice.
Hadn't punished him.
Hadn't even appeared.
And yet—
Evan felt smaller than he ever had.
His phone buzzed one last time.
Victor: Eat dinner. You're not eating enough.
Evan stared at the message.
He typed, deleted, typed again.
Evan: Why me?
The response came almost immediately.
Victor: Because you don't belong anywhere else.
Evan set the phone down, chest tight.
For the first time since the alley, fear gave way to something worse.
Loneliness.
And Victor Kane was the only person who seemed to see him at all.