THE CAPTAIN'S DARK OBSESSION

THE THING IN THE STAIRWELL

Didn't sleep. Not even a little. Kept the lights on in the kitchen till like four in the morning, phone face down on the counter like not looking at it meant the photo would just, I don't know, un-happen. It didn't. Checked it again around two, then three, then basically every twenty minutes after that, and every time it was still there, same angle, same curtains, same me standing in my own house not knowing somebody had a clear shot of my kitchen window.

Called the clinic at six thirty and told Priya I was running late. Which, fine, small lie, I wasn't running late, I was sitting on my bathroom floor with my back against the tub trying to convince myself this was probably nothing. Probably some random creep. Probably not even about me specifically, right, physios post their client rosters sometimes, somebody could've no. No, that's not it either. Nobody knows my new client list. Ironline doesn't leak anything, ever, they made me sign about four different NDAs before they'd even let me park in that garage.

Which meant, ok, two options basically. Either whoever took it followed me home from Ironline yesterday, or they already knew where I lived before I even set foot in that gym. Neither one of those is a good option btw. Sat with my coffee going cold just running through it over and over like it was gonna change if I stared hard enough.

Told myself I'd deal with it later, whatever that means, "deal with it," like I had a plan. I didn't. Grabbed my bag, checked the peephole like six times before I opened my own front door which is insane, it's MY door, and did it anyway, felt dumb the whole time but did it anyway.

Building's got this narrow stairwell between my floor and the garage level, the kind with the flickery light that's been "getting fixed" since I moved in two years ago. Never bothered me before. Bothered me today. Every step down I kept doing that thing where you convince yourself you heard something behind you and then you're too scared to turn around and check because what if you're right.

Was right.

Not about someone being there, not exactly, but there was a folded piece of paper wedged into the c***k of my mailbox door, and my mailbox doesn't take mail unless the mail carrier's got a key, so somebody put that there by hand.

Didn't open it in the stairwell. Some instinct, I guess, some part of my brain going don't do this somewhere you can't run from. Waited till I was in my car, doors locked, engine on, before I unfolded it.

One line. Same block letters as whoever it was that left the money that one time except this note wasn't kind, wasn't gentle, wasn't anything like that.

He can't protect what he doesn't know is broken.

Sat there a long minute just staring at it. Read it like four different ways trying to make it mean something less scary than what it obviously meant. Couldn't. Whoever wrote it knew about Asher. Knew I was working with him. Knew, somehow, that there was something to protect me from in the first place, which, cool, great, love that for me, considering I didn't even know that yet myself.

Almost didn't go to Ironline. Sat in that parking garage for ten straight minutes with the note in my lap trying to decide if walking into his gym today made things better or worse. Landed on better, mostly because staying home alone with a stalker who apparently knows my building layout sounded like the actual worst option on the table.

He knew something was off the second I walked in, didn't even have to open my mouth, just gave me that same too-focused stare from yesterday and his whole face changed, like a switch.

"What happened."

"Nothing." Lied straight to his face, badly, and he clearly clocked it.

"Elena."

"It's fine. I'm fine. Let's just "

"Sit down." Not a request. Voice dropped into that register he probably uses on referees, except this time there was something underneath it that wasn't cold at all, something closer to scared, and that threw me way more than the anger would've.

Sat down anyway. Didn't mean to. Just kind of happened, my body listening to him before my brain caught up and told it not to.

"Someone left something in my building this morning." Heard myself say it before I decided to. "A note."

Jaw did that thing again, tighten then let go, except this time it didn't let go all the way, just kind of stayed locked there. "What did it say."

Handed it over before I could talk myself out of it, honestly don't even know why, guess some part of me wanted him to see it too, wanted to not be the only one holding it. Watched him read it. Watched him go still, and I mean STILL, like all the way still, no fidgeting, no jaw thing, nothing, and that was so much worse than if he'd yelled or thrown something across the room. Asher going quiet is somehow the scariest version of him.

"Where's the envelope." Barely above a whisper honestly.

"What envelope?"

"The one before this. Cash. No name."

Went cold. Like actual goosebumps cold. "How do you know about that."

Didn't answer right away. Just kept looking at the note like it had personally offended him, jaw working, and something about the way he wasn't answering told me everything I needed to know before he said one single word.

"Asher."

"It's not what you think."

"You don't know what I think."

"I know exactly what you think." Finally looked up, and I don't know, the way he looked at me, kind of like he was already bracing for the door to slam. "I've been covering your mom's bills. Two years now. I sent that envelope. That's it, that's the whole thing, I swear."

Room kind of tilted. Not even being dramatic, I actually had to put my hand down on the treatment table to keep myself standing up straight, and when I talked my voice came out wrong, too small, way too small for how big this was.

"Two years?"

"Elena "

"You've been paying my mom's medical bills for TWO YEARS and it just, what, never came up?"

"I didn't do it so you'd know." He got up off the table, still favoring the bad knee even mid-argument which somehow made me even more annoyed at him, and took one step toward me, close enough I had to make myself not step back. "Wasn't about credit. I found out three years ago how bad it was for you and I had the money and I wasn't gonna just sit there."

"Three years ago you barely knew me."

Something crossed his face, quick, gone before I could really name it, but I caught it this time, caught him actually deciding whether to lie to me right there in real time.

"I knew you." Quiet. Like it cost him something to say it. "Longer than you think I did."

Didn't even get to ask what THAT meant, was literally opening my mouth to ask, when his phone buzzed on the table between us. Buzzed again. And I swear all the color just went right out of his face looking at it.

Turned it around so I could see. Didn't say anything. Didn't have to.

Same blocked number as before. New photo.

Except this one wasn't me in my kitchen.

This one was me, right now, sitting in this exact room, taken from an angle that meant whoever sent it was somewhere inside this building, close enough to see us both, close enough to be watching this exact conversation happen in real time.

Timestamped ninety seconds ago.