Chapter 1

The fluorescent lights of the deserted office hummed, a monotonous sound that filled the late-night silence. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the city was a sprawling map of distant, glittering lights.

I, Sarah Miller, was the only one left on the entire floor.

My monitor cast a blue glow on my face and the detailed architectural blueprints spread across my desk. This project was my baby, a career-defining skyscraper that demanded my every waking hour. I was tired, my bones ached from sitting, but a sense of focus kept me going. It was just another late night, a normal part of my life as a driven architect.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms over my head and letting out a long sigh. My eyes drifted to the window, to the dark streets below.

That's when I saw it.

It wasn't a reflection. It was text, shimmering in the air just beyond the glass, faint but clear, like a video game's heads-up display.

[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]

I blinked hard, shaking my head. I was definitely too tired. I must be seeing things. I rubbed my eyes and looked again.

The text was still there. And more was appearing.

[Look at her, so focused. She has no idea what' s coming.]

[Initiate Chivalry Challenge? C' mon Mark, she' s a prime target.]

[+1 for the Challenge. Let' s see you work your magic, Knight.]

My heart started to beat faster, a hard, rapid rhythm against my ribs. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to five. When I opened them, the floating words were gone.

A wave of relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. A new line of text materialized, this time right next to my computer monitor, as if projected onto the air itself.

[System Notification: You have been selected as the target for Mark Johnson' s 'Chivalry Challenge.' Prize pool currently at $5,700 and climbing.]

Mark Johnson.

The name hit me like a splash of cold water. I knew that name. He was a social media influencer, famous for his videos where he'd find women walking alone at night and insist on escorting them home, framing it as a modern-day act of chivalry. Some people found him charming, a "modern-day knight." I always found his videos creepy, performative, and deeply unsettling.

And now I was his "target."

A cold dread seeped into my bones, far colder than the air conditioning. This wasn't a hallucination. This was something else. Something terrifyingly real.

[She looks scared. Good. A little fear makes them more compliant.]

[Don' t let him down, Sarah. Just be a good girl and play along.]

Rage, sharp and hot, cut through the fear. Who the hell were these people? How could they see me? How were they doing this? My privacy, my safety, my very reality felt violated. I was not a character in someone' s sick game. I was not a "target."

My hands were shaking, but my mind was surprisingly clear. I wasn' t going to just sit here and be a victim.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slipping on the smooth screen. I scrolled through my contacts, my thumb hovering over the name "Michael." My middle brother. The impulsive one, the one who always acted first and asked questions later. Right now, that' s exactly who I needed.

I pressed the call button.

He picked up on the second ring. "Sarah? What's up? You're still at the office?"

"Michael," I said, my voice low and tight, trying to keep the tremor out of it. "I need you to come get me. And bring David and Chris."

"What? Why? Is everything okay?" The concern in his voice was immediate.

"I don't know," I said honestly, my eyes darting around the empty office, feeling a thousand unseen eyes on me. "Something is... wrong. Really wrong. Just please, hurry."

[Ooh, she' s calling for backup. The little lamb is scared.]

[This just got more interesting. More challenge, more money. Let' s see Mark handle her brothers.]

The comment floated mockingly beside my phone.

"We're on our way," Michael said, his tone shifting from concerned to serious. "Lock your door. Don't leave the building. We' ll be there in twenty minutes."

"Okay," I whispered, and hung up.

Twenty minutes. I could last twenty minutes. I stood up, my legs feeling weak, and walked to the main office door, my heels clicking loudly in the silence. I twisted the lock and slid the deadbolt into place. It didn't feel like enough.