Chapter 6 Chapter 6
The list wouldn’t leave her alone.
It sat on her desk like a wound she couldn’t stop touching. Each name carried the same pattern — a person, a date, a red line drawn through as if they had simply ceased to exist.
Except for hers.
Nina Kralj.
Three days from now.
She spent the morning searching for every name on it. The first few led to nothing — old social-media accounts gone dark, missing-person notices half a decade old, a string of local news articles about “unsolved disappearances.” Different ages, different professions, all within the same radius of the city. The kind of connections that didn’t make sense until you stepped back and saw the design.
By afternoon, her screen was full of tabs she couldn’t close.
A professor was found drowned in the river.
A café owner who vanished after closing one night.
A police inspector was dismissed for “health reasons.”
Each one carried a date from the list.
Each one ended with silence.
She sat back, heart hammering, and stared at her own name at the bottom of the paper. The date felt like a countdown she could hear ticking behind every heartbeat.
A knock startled her. Three quick taps on wood — the same rhythm she’d heard that first night.
Her blood ran cold. She turned slowly.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
She moved to the door and looked through the peephole. The hallway was empty. Only an envelope waited on the floor, edges damp from the mist creeping under the frame.
Inside was a single line written in that same measured hand:
Stop looking.
She crushed the paper in her fist. Fear and fury blurred together until she couldn’t tell them apart. Whoever was orchestrating this wanted her silent — and Adrian was the only one who ever warned her after the danger started, not before.
She grabbed her coat.
The rain had eased to a drizzle by the time she reached the bridge. The air smelled of iron and cold stone. Across the water, lights from the opposite bank shimmered like broken glass. She half-expected him to be there, leaning on the railing as always, a shadow carved out of the night.
He wasn’t.
The emptiness unnerved her more than his presence ever had.
She turned toward the side street that led to Door 17 — but the path was blocked. Two men stood beside a car she hadn’t seen before: black, sleek, windows tinted darker than the others. They weren’t pretending not to notice her.
“Miss Kralj,” one of them said, voice smooth, almost polite. “You’ve been difficult to find.”
Every instinct screamed to run. Her legs didn’t move.
“What do you want?”
“Conversation.” The man smiled without warmth. “About a mutual acquaintance.”
“Adrian.”
The smile deepened, confirming more than any words. “He shouldn’t have left you unprotected.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“Everyone needs protection. Especially from him.”
The other man opened the back door of the car. “Get in. Five minutes. Then you can walk away.”
Nina hesitated on the edge of the curb, rain sliding down her face. She was still deciding when a second car appeared at the far end of the street. It came fast, headlights cutting through the fog like knives.
The first man swore. “Move!”
The approaching car swerved, brakes screaming, and stopped so close that water splashed up around her boots. The door flew open.
Adrian stepped out.
His expression was calm, but the kind of calm that felt like pressure before a storm. “Inside,” he said quietly.
She didn’t move. “Who are they?”
“Not your concern.”
“They knew my name.”
His jaw tightened. “Now they know too much.”
Something in his tone silenced her argument. She slid into the passenger seat, heart hammering. The car accelerated before the doors had fully closed.
In the mirror, the two men watched until the street curved out of sight.
“Who were they?” she asked once the city blurred past in streaks of light.
“People who think they can use you,” he said. “They’re wrong.”
“And you?”
He glanced at her, eyes unreadable. “I’m the reason they haven’t succeeded yet.”
“Why am I on that list?”
A pause. The sound of rain against glass filled the space between them.
“You weren’t supposed to be,” he said finally. “Someone added your name. I’m trying to find out who.”
She stared at him. “You make it sound like a business.”
“It is.” His tone left no room for doubt.
The admission sent a chill through her. “You’re part of it.”
He didn’t deny it. “I’m part of what keeps it from burning the rest of the city down.”
The car slowed near the outskirts, where warehouses crouched by the river like sleeping beasts. He pulled into an alley and cut the engine.
“Get out,” he said softly.
She did, more out of shock than obedience. The night smelled of oil and rain. Behind one of the buildings, a door stood ajar, light spilling through the crack.
“This is where you disappear if I fail,” Adrian said. “Every name on that list went through here first.”
Nina felt her stomach twist. “Why show me this?”
“So you understand what you’re choosing when you keep digging.” He stepped closer, the lamplight catching in his eyes. “If you stay curious, you’ll end up like them. If you trust me, you might survive.”
She wanted to hate him. She wanted to scream. Instead, she whispered, “Then tell me the truth.”
“Not tonight.” He looked past her, toward the river where shadows shifted under the bridge. “They’re watching.”
He reached into his coat and pressed something cold into her hand — a small metal disk engraved with the same symbol as the book.
“Carry it. It’ll open doors you don’t know exist yet.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you’ll find out what the dates mean.”
A distant sound — the low growl of an approaching engine — echoed down the street. Adrian’s gaze flicked toward it, then back to her.
“Go home, Nina.”
He stepped into the dark before she could answer, vanishing between the pools of light.
She walked back through the rain with the disk hidden in her fist, its edges biting into her skin. Every sound felt amplified — footsteps behind her, a car door slamming, the whisper of tyres on wet stone.
When she reached her apartment, she half-expected him to be there waiting. Instead, the corridor was empty. The only trace of him was the faint scent of rain that lingered in the air.
On her desk, the book had opened again, though she hadn’t touched it.
A new line glistened across the page:
They know about the list.
Trust no one.
Not even me.
Nina sank into the chair, staring at the words until they blurred.
Outside, the city lights flickered, and somewhere far below, a car door slammed — a sound that might have been a warning or a goodbye.