As the night deepened and the final band took the stage, the mood of the Riverwalk concert shifted. Colored lights washed over the crowd like waves — pinks, blues, and deep gold — syncing with the beat that pulsed through the grass, the air, the bones of everyone gathered there. Claire sat quietly, the tension slowly uncoiling from her chest.
Vienna had leaned back on her elbows, face tilted toward the stars. Miko was watching the stage, his expression unreadable now, but his presence still steady. Claire glanced between them, her friends — different in so many ways, yet both anchors to something real.
For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy it. The music. The freedom. The fact that even after Diana's words, she was still here. Still herself.
But then…
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
Unknown Number:
You really think you're untouchable now? Keep pretending. We'll see how long that lasts.
Her breath hitched.
She read it twice, then a third time, just to be sure. Her fingers trembled slightly as she locked the screen and slipped the phone face down beside her. Miko noticed immediately. "Everything okay?"
Claire gave a tight nod, not trusting her voice.
Vienna sat up. "Claire?"
Claire forced a breath. "Yeah. Just... school stuff."
But both of them knew that wasn't true.
She wasn't ready to say it. Not yet. Not here, with the music still pounding and laughter echoing nearby like nothing had changed. But something had.
The threat wasn't just in her head anymore.
And maybe Diana hadn't sent it. Maybe she had. Maybe someone else was watching everything too closely.
But whoever it was — they knew Claire was no longer standing still.
She picked up her phone again, stared at the message, then deleted it. Not because she was ignoring it — but because she refused to let it decide what kind of night this was.
Tomorrow, she'd deal with it. She'd talk to someone. Maybe even her mom. Or… maybe Miko.
But tonight, as the band played their final song, Claire closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and let the music wrap around her like armor.
She was here.
She was choosing her path.
And whoever was trying to pull her back into fear — they'd have to try harder.
Because Claire Adine wasn't hiding anymore.
Later that night, Claire stood by her bedroom window, the soft rustle of leaves outside blending with the fading echoes of the concert still ringing in her mind. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her phone, the screen dim and silent now, as if the message from earlier had never existed.
But she couldn't unsee it. Couldn't forget the chill it left in her chest.
The house was quiet. Her mom had gone to bed hours ago, after checking in and giving Claire a warm hug that lingered a little longer than usual. Vienna had texted her to say she'd made it home safe. Miko… he hadn't messaged again, but she knew he would give her space.
Still, Claire didn't feel okay. Not really.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment, then made a decision.
She scrolled to the name: Sam Alvarez.
Sam wasn't just a friend — he was like a big brother, someone who had always known how to read between the lines, especially when Claire wouldn't say anything out loud.
She hit Call.
It rang twice before he picked up.
"Claire? Everything okay?"
His voice was groggy, like she'd woken him — but alert in an instant.
"Sorry," she said quietly. "Did I wake you?"
"Nah," he lied smoothly. "Just resting my eyes. What's up?"
Claire hesitated.
"I got a message tonight."
"…Okay." His tone shifted, sharper. "From who?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It was an unknown number. But the message—it wasn't random. It said something like… 'Keep pretending. We'll see how long that lasts.'"
Silence crackled for a beat.
Sam exhaled. "You still have it?"
"No. I deleted it."
"Claire…"
"I know. I shouldn't have. But I panicked. I just—" Her voice cracked slightly. "It felt like someone saw me tonight. Like they were watching me. Waiting to remind me I'm not safe."
Sam's voice was steady now. "You are safe. You're at home. You have people around you. But I get it, okay? This isn't just about the message. It's about how it makes you feel."
Claire nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Exactly."
"I want you to screenshot anything weird from now on," he said. "Don't delete. Even if it's nothing. We track patterns that way. And maybe—just maybe—it connects to what happened before."
Claire swallowed. "You think it's the same person?"
"I think someone wants you to think that. And I think you've been holding onto too much alone. Let me help. Let someone help."
She felt her chest tighten — and then loosen. Like just hearing him say that gave her
permission to stop pretending she had it all under control.
"Thanks, Sam."
"Always," he said gently. "Do you want me to come by tomorrow?"
She hesitated. "Not yet. But… can I send you something? Just notes. Thoughts. Stuff I remember from the past few weeks?"
"You mean your instincts?"
"Yeah."
"Do it," he said without pause. "I'll read everything. I'll treat it like a case. Quiet, private. Just me and you."
Claire closed her eyes, finally feeling the first ripple of calm in hours.
"Thanks," she whispered again.
Get some rest, Claire," he said with a small smile in his voice. "You're not alone, no matter what that message wants you to think."
She hung up, heart steadier now, and sat at her desk.
A blank document glowed on her laptop screen.
At the top, she typed:
"Things That Don't Feel Right"
And then she began to write. After sending the last paragraph of notes to Sam, Claire closed her laptop with a soft click. The screen's glow faded, leaving her room in quiet darkness, lit only by the faint silver of moonlight streaming through her curtains.
She changed into her favorite sleep shirt — worn, soft, and oversized — then slid beneath the covers. Her body was tired, but her mind still spun in too many directions.
She lay still, staring at the ceiling.
Every sound seemed louder now — the ticking of her small clock, the occasional creak of the wooden frame of her bed, a dog barking faintly somewhere down the street. Her phone rested face-down on her nightstand, but she couldn't help glancing at it every few minutes, half expecting it to light up again.
But it didn't.
Her thoughts returned to the message.
You really think you're untouchable now? Keep pretending. We'll see how long that lasts.
The words burrowed deep. It wasn't just a warning — it was personal. Like someone knew exactly where to strike.
She turned on her side, clutching her pillow.
Diana's face floated to the surface of her mind. Her eyes, her tone. That look she gave her before walking away. Could it really have been her? Or was Claire letting old guilt poison her instincts?
She shut her eyes tighter.
She thought of Miko's expression — quiet concern masked with a small smile. Vienna's voice, protective and steady. Sam's calm reassurance just a few minutes ago.
They were all pieces of something stronger than fear.
Claire exhaled slowly, pushing the covers up to her chin.
She couldn't control the threats.
She couldn't rewrite the past.
But she could choose not to let it define her.
"I'm safe," she whispered to herself. "I'm not alone."
The words didn't erase the worry. But they helped.
Little by little, her breathing slowed. Her muscles relaxed. And finally — gently — sleep began to wrap around her like a quiet tide.
Outside her window, the night watched on.
But inside, Claire was still.
And for now, that was enough.