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I hesitate for a moment, but then I give in. “Put it on speaker.”

She dials, taking my hand while we wait. The hold music makes my skin crawl with how cheery it is. Seriously, how does happy music fit an emergency?

Finally, a calm voice answers. “D.C. Police Department. What’s your emergency?”

I start explaining about the puzzle pieces, but then, instead of telling her about my suspicion of Daniel being forced to drop out of Georgetown, I move on to the message on the mirror.

“Is there any sign of forced entry?” the dispatcher asks.

“No.”

“Is anything missing?”

Even though she can’t see me, I shake my head. “No. Nothing’s been taken. But someonewashere.”

The dispatcher sighs, and I know what’s coming before she can even get the words out. “Without evidence of a break-in or threat, we can’t open a case. But you may want to change your locks.”

I don’t answer. Lena reaches across and ends the call herself.

“Useless,” she mutters. “Why didn’t you tell them about Daniel?”

“Because…” I finally meet her gaze. “… it sounds insane. And… I don’t know, Lee. What if I’m wrong? What if itisnothing more than a fluke coincidence? Plus, it’s not like I can prove anything.”

She scoffs, but doesn’t push the issue, which I’m grateful for.

I don’t know why, but after talking to the police, knowing they don’t consider it an issue or something that even warrants a report, I feel calmer, somehow. Like their dismissal is feeding the part of me that wants to live in denial, and now I have a legitimate reason to.

“Maybe you should stay at my place for a few days,” Lena suggests, cautiously.

I shake my head firmly. “No.”

“Piper.” She leans forward, eyes wide with insistence. “You just said he’s broken into your fucking home. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“This apartment ismine,” I say, more to myself than to her. “Ihaveto stay.”

Silence settles between us, heavy but not hollow. I open my mouth, wanting to explain that I can’t leave. This is Teddy’s building, and he got it for me. It’s so much more than just an apartment, it’s my freedom. But… I don’t know how to explain any of that. So I just don’t.

Lena doesn’t press, but her frustration is a living thing. “Okay,” she says, backing off with a sigh. “Then we’re ordering takeout. My treat. What do you want?”

“Sushi.” It’s an easy answer, but nothing feels easy.

She nods, grabs her phone, and starts to order. I stand, the chair scraping against the floor, and turn toward my bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

The familiar weight of the apartment settles over me, making me feel more certain that I’m not going anywhere. I get dressed—overwashed jeans, a long-sleeved black t-shirt—each piece like armor. The fabric is soft against my skin, a gentle friction that reminds me I’m still here, still me.

Before joining Lena, I dig around my closet for my spare mace spray and hide it under my pillow. There. If he breaks in again while I’m here, I’m prepared.

When the food arrives, we move to the living room, sitting together on the couch. The light is too bright, too harsh against the dark edges of my thoughts. It all feels exposed. We eat in silence, each bite a pause, a punctuation, a truce. I can feel Lena stealing glances at me, but she doesn’t say anything.

She waits until the sushi is almost gone, until my nerves have settled into something less raw, before she speaks. “I want to see them,” she demands.

I hesitate, knowing exactly what she means. “The pieces?”

“And the note. Everything.”

I stay still, indecision pinning me down, then nod and stand. “They’re in the desk drawer.”

Lena follows me, and I open the bottom drawer, revealing the small stack of black envelopes. I’ve kept them hidden, even from myself. I pull them out slowly, like they might detonate, and set them on top of the desk.