C10 Caught in the Net

Taylor’s breath came shallow as she sat upright in bed, her eyes fixed on the faint shadow stretching across the wall. It didn’t move, but its stillness was worse than motion. Her heart raced, every nerve screaming.

“Owen,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder where he dozed uneasily on the couch. “Wake up.”

He stirred, blinking. “What is it?”

“There’s someone outside,” she said, her voice cracking. “I saw the shadow. It wasn’t Malik. It wasn’t Scott. It was someone else.”

Owen sat up fully, his features sharpening with alertness. He crossed the room to the window, pulling the blinds back quickly. Nothing. The street below was quiet, empty, the lamppost casting its lonely glow.

“There’s no one there,” he said, though his voice wasn’t as confident as he wanted it to be.

“I saw it,” Taylor insisted, her hands trembling. “I swear I saw it.”

Owen let the blinds fall back into place. “Then someone’s playing games.”

Taylor hugged her knees to her chest. “I can’t take this anymore. Malik showing up, Scott threatening us, now this—when does it end?”

“It ends when we take control,” Owen said firmly.

But his words rang hollow.

They moved through the morning like shadows of themselves. Taylor dressed for brunch with Simone but her appetite was gone. She kept glancing at the window, half-expecting to see the watcher’s shadow return.

When they finally left the apartment, Owen insisted on driving. His silence weighed heavier than usual, as though words might crack the fragile surface they were standing on.

At the restaurant, Simone greeted Taylor with her usual warmth, but her smile faltered when she saw the strain on her friend’s face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Taylor forced a small laugh. “Something like that.”

They sat, the chatter of nearby tables buzzing like static. Owen excused himself to take a call outside, leaving Taylor with Simone.

“You’re not okay,” Simone said bluntly.

Taylor hesitated. “It’s just… a lot. Malik came by last night. And Scott too. And then—” She stopped, biting her lip. Should she tell Simone about the shadow? About Owen’s secret?

Simone leaned closer. “Taylor, you know you can tell me anything.”

Her eyes stung, but the words caught in her throat. Before she could respond, her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Her stomach tightened as she opened the message.

> You can’t hide forever.

The fork slipped from her hand, clattering against the plate. Simone frowned. “Taylor?”

Taylor shoved the phone away quickly. “It’s nothing. Just spam.”

But her hands shook under the table.

When Owen returned, she didn’t mention it. She couldn’t.

The day dragged into evening, and back at the apartment, Taylor found herself pacing. Every creak of the floorboards set her on edge. Owen tried to reassure her, but his words barely touched the gnawing dread in her chest.

Later, when Owen retreated to his study, Taylor sat alone in the living room, scrolling through her phone to distract herself. That was when the message came again.

> I see you.

She froze. Her eyes darted to the window. She pulled the blinds back in one swift motion. Nothing. Only the streetlight’s dull glow and the empty stretch of sidewalk.

Her phone buzzed again.

> Don’t bother looking. Nets aren’t visible until you’re already caught.

Taylor’s breath hitched. She typed back quickly, her fingers shaking.

> Who is this? What do you want?

No reply.

The silence pressed in.

A sudden crash from the study jolted her. She raced toward the door, flinging it open. Owen stood there, papers scattered across the desk, his phone on the floor. His face was pale.

“What happened?” she asked.

He picked up the phone slowly, his jaw tight. “A warning.”

Her stomach turned. “From who?”

He met her eyes, and for the first time, she saw fear there. “Someone who knows too much.”

Before she could ask, the doorbell rang. Both of them froze.

“Don’t answer it,” Owen said quickly.

But the bell rang again, louder this time.

Taylor’s body moved before her mind caught up. She crept to the door, pressing her ear against it. Silence.

She reached for the peephole and gasped.

A package sat on the floor, no person in sight.

“Owen,” she whispered.

He came to her side, his hand steadying hers as he opened the door. The package was small, plain, wrapped in brown paper with no return address.

Owen picked it up cautiously and set it on the table. They exchanged a tense glance before unwrapping it together.

Inside was a single object: a tangled fishing net, knotted tightly, strands frayed.

Taylor’s blood ran cold.

A note lay at the bottom of the box. Four words, scrawled in uneven handwriting:

You are already mine.

Her knees buckled, and she gripped the edge of the table for balance. “Owen…”

He clenched the note in his fist. “This has to stop.”

But even as he said it, Taylor felt the walls of the apartment close in. Whoever was watching wasn’t just playing games anymore. They were weaving something around her, something invisible but tightening by the second.

The phone buzzed again.

One more message.

> Next time, it won’t be a warning.

Taylor’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart raced as she whispered the words that had been haunting her since the first shadow appeared.

“We’re trapped, Owen. We’re already in the net.”

And just as the words left her lips, the lights flickered—then went out, plunging the apartment into darkness.