The rain had started suddenly.
Heavy drops slammed against the pavement, turning the quiet street into a glossy river of reflected lights. Leyla Hart pulled her coat tighter around herself as she hurried down the sidewalk.
She hated walking alone at night.
Especially nights like this.
But the buses had stopped running, and the rain had scared most people off the streets.
Almost everyone.
Almost.
Her footsteps splashed against shallow puddles as she turned the corner toward her apartment building.
Then she heard it.
Another set of footsteps.
Behind her.
Slow.
Steady.
Too deliberate to belong to someone simply walking home.
Leyla's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
Don't panic.
It could be anyone.
But something in her chest whispered otherwise.
The footsteps didn't speed up.
They didn't slow down.
They followed.
A cold shiver crawled up her spine.
She walked faster.
The footsteps matched her pace.
Her heart started beating harder now.
Okay… that's enough.
Leyla suddenly stopped and turned around.
The man standing behind her was tall. Taller than anyone she had expected to see on this empty street.
Rain soaked his dark coat, the water dripping slowly from the edges.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
And his eyes…
They were watching her.
Not casually.
Not curiously.
But intensely.
Like he had been watching her for a very long time.
Leyla frowned. "Were you following me?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped forward, his shoes splashing lightly against the wet ground.
Leyla instinctively stepped back.
"Relax," he said quietly.
His voice was deep. Smooth.
Dangerously calm.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
"Then why are you following me?" she demanded.
The man tilted his head slightly, studying her face as if committing every detail to memory.
The rain ran through his dark hair, but he didn't seem to care.
"If I wanted to hurt you," he said slowly, "I would've done it already, Leyla."
Her stomach dropped.
The world seemed to freeze around her.
"…What?"
He smiled faintly.
Not a friendly smile.
The kind that made her chest tighten.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, her voice suddenly quieter.
The man took another step closer.
Close enough now that she could see the sharp edge of his jaw, the shadow of stubble along his chin.
"I know more than your name."
Her pulse raced.
"That's impossible."
"Is it?" he murmured.
Leyla shook her head. "I've never seen you before."
For the first time, the man's expression changed.
Amusement flickered in his eyes.
"Oh, Leyla," he said softly.
"We've met."
Her breath caught.
"When?"
The rain seemed louder now.
The silence between them stretched.
Then the man leaned closer.
Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath despite the cold rain.
"That night," he whispered.
A strange chill ran through her body.
"What night?" she asked.
His eyes darkened.
"The night you left him to die."
Leyla's heart slammed violently against her ribs.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
Because there was only one night that sentence could mean.
One night she had tried desperately to forget.
And no one was supposed to know about it.
No one.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"…Who are you?"
The man straightened, watching her panic with quiet interest.
Then he gave a slow, chilling smile.
"…Who are you?" Leyla whispered again.
The man watched her for a long moment, rain sliding down his face.
Then he smiled.
Slow.
Knowing.
"You really don't remember?"
"Remember what?" she demanded.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that her back nearly hit the wall behind her.
"That night."
The words hit her like a slap.
Her stomach twisted violently.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly.
The man tilted his head.
Amusement flickered in his dark eyes.
"That's strange."
His voice dropped to a quiet whisper.
"Because the last time we saw each other…"
Lightning flashed across the sky.
"…you were screaming my name."
Leyla's heart stopped.
"What's your name?" she asked, her voice shaking.
The man leaned closer.
And smiled.
"Ethan Blackwood."
The world seemed to tilt.
Because Ethan Blackwood…
was the man who was supposed to be dead.