Chapter 2 THE MAN AT THE DOOR

The knock was soft. Too soft.

Three quick taps, a pause, then two more.

Evie froze halfway to the kitchen. She hadn't touched the envelope since shoving it into the drawer, but she felt its presence like a heartbeat in the room.

She stayed silent, hoping the person would leave.

The knock came again ,same pattern.

She inched toward the peephole, every creak of the floorboards a gunshot in her ears.

A man stood in the hallway. Tall, lean, his face hidden under the brim of a rain-darkened cap. He wasn't looking at her door , he was looking at the hallway camera, as if daring it to blink.

Then he spoke. Not loudly, but with the precision of someone who knew his voice would carry.

"Evelyn Rae. I'm here to take you home."

The name hit her like a punch. Evelyn. Evie.

She didn't know if it was hers... but it fit. Too well.

The man tilted his head, listening for movement. She backed away from the door.

"I know you're confused," he continued, his tone measured, almost rehearsed. "It's because of the transfer. They took too much at once. I can fix it - but only if you open this door now."

Transfer? Her mind replayed the scene from the street, the fog, the red hood. Was that a "transfer"?

She took another step back. The floor groaned.

The man smiled she could see it from the gap between door and frame. "There you are," he murmured.

Her fingers closed around the nearest object - a ceramic mug - as if it were a weapon.

Then his voice changed. Sharper. "Evie, if you walk away from this door, you'll forget this conversation in twelve hours. You'll lose everything."

The words chilled her.

She thought of the note: You'll need it.

The pill. The memory.

Before she could decide, footsteps echoed from the far end of the hall. Heavy, deliberate.

The man at the door stiffened, glancing over his shoulder. "They found you faster than I thought," he whispered. "This is your only....."

A loud metallic snap cut him off the sound of a gun being cocked.

Evie didn't wait to see who it was. She bolted to the fire escape, climbing down two floors before hitting the wet pavement and running.

The city seemed different now , angles sharper, shadows deeper. People passed without a glance, yet she felt eyes on her from everywhere.

When she finally stopped, chest burning, she was standing under a flickering neon sign for a closed diner. And there, reflected in the darkened window, was her own face - pale, wild-eyed... and with a thin, jagged scar running from her temple to her jaw.

A scar she didn't remember having.