Charlie believed in patterns.
Not fate. Not destiny. Patterns. Because patterns could be studied, avoided, outsmarted.
That belief was the only reason she noticed when the city started behaving differently.
It wasn't obvious at first. Just small things. A café closing earlier than usual. A familiar street suddenly quieter at night. Men she didn't recognize standing where regulars used to be.
She noticed because she paid attention.
Charlie worked late most nights, tucked away in a small publishing office that smelled like old paper and burnt coffee. It was boring, underpaid, and safe. Or at least it had been.
That night, her boss locked the office door behind her.
"I don't like this," he muttered, peering down the street like it might bite back. "Walk fast. Call me when you get home."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care?"
He didn't laugh.
"Just… do it."
She did.
The walk to her apartment felt longer than usual. The streetlights flickered, casting shadows that stretched too far, lingered too long. A black car rolled past her once. Slow. Silent. Windows tinted dark enough to hide intention.
It didn't stop.
Still, her steps quickened.
By the time she reached her building, her shoulders ached from tension she refused to acknowledge. She locked her door, dropped her bag, and exhaled like she'd been holding her breath all evening.
Her phone buzzed.
Nina: You home?
Charlie: Yeah. Why?
There was a pause. Too long.
Nina: You hear about what happened downtown?
Charlie frowned. No.
Another pause.
Nina: They say Blake's back.
Charlie stared at the name.
She didn't know who Blake was. Not really. But the way Nina said it, like a warning disguised as gossip, told her enough.
Back from where? she typed.
Nina: Doesn't matter. When he's around, things change.
Charlie rolled her eyes, even as unease settled into her chest. "People love a scary story," she muttered to the empty room.
Still, she locked her windows.
Across the city, in a high-rise office that overlooked streets Charlie walked every day, Blake reviewed reports with quiet efficiency. Names. Locations. Movements.
One file lingered open longer than the others.
Not because it was important.
Because it was new.
Blake didn't smile. Didn't comment. He simply memorized the name and closed the folder.
Outside, the city continued breathing, unaware it had already been claimed.
And Charlie slept, convinced that danger always announced itself before arriving.