BEAUTIFUL CHAOS

Chapter 5

Ruby

I take it very seriously that the rest of today is going to be better. Not perfect. Just better.

We were gathered again, all twenty of us, a staff woman standing in front with a tablet.

"Good morning," she said smoothly. "We're finalizing your internship rotations. This internship runs for fifteen months. You will rotate across five departments at three-week intervals. Your schedules have been uploaded. Please check your assigned units."

Phones came out almost immediately. I pulled mine out and opened the file, half-braced, the way I'd apparently started bracing for everything my phone might show me now.

Scroll. Pause. Scroll again.

What?

Executive Observation Unit. Executive Observation Unit. Executive Observation Unit. Repeated, again and again, every rotation slot filled with the same four words.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "That's not right," I muttered.

We were supposed to rotate through different departments. So why did mine look like I'd been permanently assigned to one unit?

Maybe it's a mistake. Definitely a mistake.

"Alright," the woman said. "You will now move to your assigned units. Please confirm your group members."

I checked the names. Kevin, relief hit immediately. Cassie. And Mila.

"Hey, hey again," Kevin said, falling into step beside me.

"My same group," I said. "Lucky you."

"I like chaos."

Cassie fell in on my other side, arms crossed, expression unreadable. After yesterday I half expected her to say something about the conference room again, but she just said, "Try not to raise your hand today," which from her, I was starting to understand, counted as almost friendly.

The Executive Observation Unit was bigger than I expected, structured work zones, every desk arranged so precisely it felt like touching anything out of place might trigger an alarm. I dropped my bag at my seat and tried to focus on the layout, the pen placement, anything ordinary, instead of the two messages still sitting unanswered in my inbox.

We spent the day rotating through briefings and systems, and I did my best impression of a person who had slept the night before. At some point I typed something wrong and deleted it so fast it looked suspicious. At another point I nodded like I understood something I absolutely did not.

Christian didn't call on me again. I told myself that was fine. I told myself that several times.

By four, my brain had officially stopped functioning, which was probably why I decided walking home instead of taking the train sounded like a good idea.

*

The city moved around me, cars passing, voices blending, a man holding a baby arguing softly on the phone, a small dog pulling its leash like it had somewhere important to be. Normal things. For a few blocks, everything felt normal again.

"Okay," I whispered. "That happened. And I survived it."

I thought about calling Becca and telling her everything, the conference room, Cassie's warning, Christian's one almost-compliment I still hadn't stopped replaying. I thought about telling her the other thing too, the messages, the name, the address. I got as far as pulling up her contact.

My phone buzzed before I could call.

Unknown number.

My stomach dropped. Slowly, I opened it.

I'm right behind you.

I stopped walking so fast the man behind me nearly collided with my shoulder. He muttered something irritated and stepped around me. I barely registered it.

A second message loaded underneath. A picture.

I hesitated only a moment before opening it, and my heart stopped.

It was me. From behind. Walking, right now, this exact block, this exact street, in the outfit I was currently wearing. The photo was slightly tilted, taken quickly, almost rushed, timestamped four minutes ago.

Not three years old. Not Chicago. Not a memory dressed up as a threat.

Today. This street. Four minutes ago.

I turned around sharply. People walking. Talking. Normal city noise. A woman on her phone. Two men in suits. A jogger. Nothing that looked like anything, which meant it could have been any of them, which meant it could have been all of them, which meant I had absolutely no idea what I was looking for.

My fingers tightened around my phone, my pulse loud in my ears. This wasn't coincidence. This wasn't the past reaching backward anymore. This was someone standing close enough to take a photograph of my back and patient enough to wait exactly long enough to make sure I'd feel it.

I started walking faster. Then faster. My phone vibrated again.

You shouldn't be alone right now, Ruby.

My steps stopped completely. Not because of what it said. Because of how it said it. Not a threat, dressed up as concern. Something closer to true. Something that landed exactly where it was aimed.

I looked up, and for the first time all day, the street in front of me didn't feel empty. It felt occupied by something I couldn't see, close enough to touch, patient enough to wait.

Somewhere behind me, a car door closed. Ordinary. Probably ordinary. I didn't turn around to check.

I ran, one block, then another, my bag slamming against my hip, my breath tearing, no destination in mind beyond away, until I nearly collided with someone stepping out of a black car at the curb.

Hands caught my shoulders before I hit the ground.

"Ruby."

I looked up.

Christian.

Not composed. Not the version from the conference room, or the hallway, or the orientation stage. His jaw was tight, his eyes moving over me too fast, cataloguing, the way he'd catalogue a threat he hadn't fully identified yet.

"You're shaking," he said. Not a question.

I opened my mouth to say something reassuring, something that would make this look like nothing, a girl who'd simply run for the exercise, and nothing came out at all.

His grip on my shoulders didn't loosen. "What happened?"

And for the first time since the first message had landed on my screen two mornings ago, I didn't know whether I was more afraid of the answer, or of how badly, in that exact moment, I wanted to give i