Chapter One — The Text

The first vibration felt like any other notification — a buzz against my thigh as I shoved books into my locker. But the second one came fast, sharp, almost urgent. I pulled out my phone, expecting a reminder from Mom or maybe a group chat blowing up about the pep rally.

Instead, I froze.

My breath caught in my throat.

That wasn’t possible.

Maya’s name had been gone from my contacts for months — erased when her family “moved away.” Except moved away wasn’t the right phrase. More like vanished. No forwarding address. No goodbye. No explanation. And every time I asked about her, people looked at me like I was mixing her up with someone else.

Like she’d never existed.

My thumb trembled as I tapped the notification.

Maya: Don’t trust them.

The hallway noise faded — the slamming lockers, the chatter, the squeak of sneakers on tile. Everything blurred into a low hum as I stared at the screen.

“Maya?” I whispered, even though saying her name out loud felt dangerous.

A shadow fell across me. I snapped my head up.

It was Mr. Calloway, the guidance counselor. His smile was too wide, too practiced. “Everything all right, Lila? You look pale.”

I locked my phone so fast my fingers slipped. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”

His eyes lingered on me a second too long. “If you ever need to talk, my door is open.”

I nodded, but something in my chest tightened. Mr. Calloway had always been nice — the kind of adult who remembered birthdays and asked about your weekend. But right now, with Maya’s message burning in my pocket, even his kindness felt wrong.

As soon as he walked away, I reopened the text.

Maya: Don’t trust them.

Them.

Who was them?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

My heart hammered.

Finally, a new message popped up.

Maya: They’re watching. Pretend you never heard from me.

I swallowed hard. My mouth felt dry. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone.

Me: Who’s watching? Maya, what’s going on?

No response.

The bell rang, jolting me back to reality. Students surged around me, heading to class. I forced myself to move with them, even though my legs felt like they were made of wet sand.

As I turned the corner toward English, someone bumped my shoulder — hard.

“Watch it,” a girl snapped.

I barely heard her. Because standing at the end of the hallway was a boy I’d never seen before. Tall. Dark jacket. Hands in pockets. Staring straight at me.

Not at the crowd.

Not at the teacher beside him.

At me.

And when our eyes met, he tilted his head slightly, like he was studying something only he could see.

A chill crawled up my spine.

I blinked.

He was gone.

I spun around, searching the hallway, but he’d vanished into the sea of students.

My phone buzzed again.

I didn’t want to look.

But I did.

Unknown Number: Stop asking questions.

My stomach dropped.

This wasn’t Maya.

This was someone else.

Someone who knew I’d received her message.

Someone who didn’t want me digging deeper.

I backed against the wall, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles went white.

For the first time since Maya disappeared, I realized something terrifying.

She hadn’t left me behind.

She’d been taken.

And now… whoever took her knew I was next.