Chapter 2
Two days passed, and Cora tried to force herself to believe that the nightmare had truly ended—that she could step back into the familiar rhythm of life.
She put on her pale blue nurse’s uniform, frayed at the cuffs, caught the familiar train to the public hospital in downtown Brooklyn, and tried to keep her hands busy with the tasks she had done thousands of times before. Taking blood pressure. Changing bandages. Writing notes on medical charts. Soothing an elderly man who refused to take his medicine.
But something inside her had changed. An invisible wire of tension stretched across her chest that made her startle every time a door slammed shut. Every time a stranger passed through the hallway and let his eyes rest on her for one second longer than normal.
She told herself she was only being paranoid. That sleepless nights and leftover fear were playing tricks on her mind. But that unease kept clinging to her like a thin mist that wouldn’t dissolve—not clear enough for her to name, but not vague enough to ignore.
Priya was the first to notice.
Priya Sharma had worked the night shift with Cora for more than a year. A girl with a warm smile and sharp eyes that always noticed the things other people missed. And also the closest—almost the only—friend Cora had in this cold city.
When the two of them were standing beside the nurse’s station during their break, Priya tilted her head and looked at her for a long moment. Then she gently touched her arm.
“What’s wrong, Cora? For the past two days, you’ve looked like your soul has gone missing. Your eyes are dark, and you keep jumping at every little thing. Did something happen to you?”
Cora forced a smile and shook her head. “I’m just tired. Too many shifts in a row. The rent situation. You know how it is.”
But Priya didn’t believe her as easily as usual. She pulled Cora down onto the plastic chair in the corner of the break room, poured her a cup of hot tea from the thermos she always carried, and looked straight into her eyes with a concern that made Cora feel both warmed and faintly confused. Because Priya asked more questions than she normally did. Asking where Cora had gone that night. Asking whether she had gotten into trouble with her father or with the debt collectors. Asking whether she needed a temporary place to stay if the housing situation grew worse.
Cora accepted the cup of tea with both hands, still trembling a little, letting the warmth seep into her skin. In that moment, she almost wanted to tell her everything. Wanted to pour out the terrible weight pressing on her chest. Wanted to tell Priya about the candlelit room, about the gunshot, about the man with those black eyes.
But then the clipped warning of the man named Tomas rang again inside her head. Don’t tell anyone.
And she swallowed all those words down, only saying softly that she was fine, that she just needed a good night’s sleep.
Priya looked at her for another moment—something passing through her eyes that Cora couldn’t read in time. Then she smiled and gave her friend’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“You know you can trust me, Cora. Anything, anytime. I’m always here for you.”
Those words should have comforted Cora. And they did. But somewhere in a hidden corner deep inside her, a strange feeling flickered through so quickly that she couldn’t catch hold of it. A vague suspicion with no explanation. Because there was something in the way Priya asked. In her eagerness. That was just a little too much. That suddenly felt strange to Cora—though she pushed it away at once and scolded herself for becoming so distrustful that she was even doubting her best friend.
The next night, when her shift ended later than usual because of a long emergency case, Cora stepped out into the parking lot behind the hospital alone. It was nearly two in the morning, and the whole area was drowned in a cold light spilling from a few dim high-pressure lamps. Many of the bulbs already burned out, leaving ragged patches of darkness stretching between the silent rows of parked cars.
Priya had gone home before her because of a family matter. So Cora crossed the empty lot by herself, both hands pushed deep into the pockets of her thin coat, her breath turning into white smoke in the freezing air. And the vague unease that had followed her for days suddenly grew so thick she could barely breathe—as though something were closing in around her.
She was just about to quicken her steps toward the train station when a figure separated from the darkness between two trucks parked close to the wall. A large man in a black leather jacket, his face hidden beneath the shadow of his cap. He walked straight toward her with an easy, threatening stride—the kind of ease that belonged to someone who knew his prey had nowhere left to run.
Cora froze, her heart pounding up into her throat.
“You’re Cora Whitaker, aren’t you?” the man said. His mouth lifted into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Someone very much wants to talk to you about that night in Manhattan. About where you were and who you were standing beside. And if you come with me quietly, this will be much easier for both of us.”
Cora backed away one step, then another. Her mouth was dry. “You have the wrong person. I don’t know anything.”
May you like
The man only gave a harsh little laugh and moved closer, his broad hand reaching out to seize her arm. And in that terrifying moment, just as Cora opened her mouth to scream, a cold voice rang out from behind them and cut through everything.
“Take your hand off her. Now. If you still want to keep your life.”
