Chapter 1

I lived alone, but for months, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else was in my apartment.

I’d make breakfast, turn around to grab the milk, and the toast on my plate would be gone.

Freshly laundered shirts hung in the closet would suddenly have grease stains on the collars before I ever wore them.

I tore the place apart. I installed hidden cameras. I found absolutely nothing.

Until my girlfriend, Claire, wrapped her arms around my neck with a soft, lingering smile.

"Babe, you were so intense last night. I barely walked through the door before you pinned me against the wall."

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

I wasn't home last night.

Claire was still stroking my arm, but her smile faltered when she saw my face.

"What's wrong, babe? The guy who refused to let me go last night didn't look at me like that."

I stared at her. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms they broke the skin.

"You saw me... in my apartment?"

She nodded, trying to lean in again, but I dodged her.

"Yeah. The power must have been out in the building, it was pitch black. But the second I walked in, you grabbed me."

Every word made my skin crawl.

I grabbed her arm. "Claire, I wasn't home last night."

"Stop joking."

"I'm not joking. Marcus went through a bad breakup. I stayed at his place."

I pulled out my phone, dialed Marcus, and put it on speaker.

He answered, his voice thick with sleep. "What's up, bro? You left your jacket here. When are you coming to get it?"

My throat tightened. "Marcus, did I sleep at your place last night?"

"No shit. Otherwise what? We stayed up till three watching garbage rom-coms, you cried and said I had to be your best man, and you made me fetch you a Coke from the fridge. You black out or something?"

All the color drained from Claire's face.

She stumbled backward, hitting the dining table.

"Impossible..." she whispered. "Then who was that last night?"

She bolted into the bedroom. She ripped open the closet and dragged out the under-bed storage bins. Ten minutes later, the whole apartment looked like it had been ransacked.

She stood in the center of the living room, covered in dust, eyes wide and frantic.

"Nothing. There's nothing here."

I dialed 911.

Chapter 1

I lived alone, but for months, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else was in my apartment.

I’d make breakfast, turn around to grab the milk, and the toast on my plate would be gone.

Freshly laundered shirts hung in the closet would suddenly have grease stains on the collars before I ever wore them.

I tore the place apart. I installed hidden cameras. I found absolutely nothing.

Until my girlfriend, Claire, wrapped her arms around my neck with a soft, lingering smile.

"Babe, you were so intense last night. I barely walked through the door before you pinned me against the wall."

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

I wasn't home last night.

Claire was still stroking my arm, but her smile faltered when she saw my face.

"What's wrong, babe? The guy who refused to let me go last night didn't look at me like that."

I stared at her. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms they broke the skin.

"You saw me... in my apartment?"

She nodded, trying to lean in again, but I dodged her.

"Yeah. The power must have been out in the building, it was pitch black. But the second I walked in, you grabbed me."

Every word made my skin crawl.

I grabbed her arm. "Claire, I wasn't home last night."

"Stop joking."

"I'm not joking. Marcus went through a bad breakup. I stayed at his place."

I pulled out my phone, dialed Marcus, and put it on speaker.

He answered, his voice thick with sleep. "What's up, bro? You left your jacket here. When are you coming to get it?"

My throat tightened. "Marcus, did I sleep at your place last night?"

All the color drained from Claire's face.

She stumbled backward, hitting the dining table.

"Impossible..." she whispered. "Then who was that last night?"

She bolted into the bedroom. She ripped open the closet and dragged out the under-bed storage bins. Ten minutes later, the whole apartment looked like it had been ransacked.

She stood in the center of the living room, covered in dust, eyes wide and frantic.

"Nothing. There's nothing here."

I dialed 911.