Lena woke to the sound of movement in the hallway. Not the usual shuffle of tenants or the creak of old pipes. This was sharper, more deliberate—footsteps controlled, careful not to wake the building.

She sat up, the red glow of her alarm clock reading 3:12 a.m. Her chest tightened as she listened.

The footsteps stopped outside her door. For a breathless moment, she thought they would knock. Instead, there was a faint hiss, like metal against metal. Then silence.

Curiosity burned hotter than fear. She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to her peephole.

Elias.

He stood in the hallway, hood drawn up, a slim black case in his hand. His gray eyes swept the corridor once before he disappeared into 1409.

When the lock clicked shut, Lena pressed her forehead against the cool door. Her heart was hammering.

The next morning, a sour, metallic tang clung faintly to the air on the 14th floor. It reminded her of pennies and bleach, sharp enough to sting her nose. She covered her mouth with her sleeve as she passed 1409 on her way to the elevator.

Down in the lobby, she spotted him again. Elias. Fresh clothes, damp hair like he’d just showered, and no trace of exhaustion despite the late hour she’d seen him return. He leaned casually against the security desk, flipping through a clipboard as if he belonged there.

The guard didn’t question him. Didn’t even look up.

Elias glanced up and saw her. For a second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then the mask slid into place. He gave her a small nod—neighborly, casual. Too casual.

“Morning,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

“Morning,” he echoed, smooth as glass.

And just like that, he walked past her and out the front doors, into the blur of traffic and sun.

Lena watched him go, her stomach tight.

Every instinct told her that Elias wasn’t just another neighbor with odd hours. He was something else. Something dangerous.

The question was: dangerous to whom?