It's late at night by the time I finish practicing and head back home. The building is dark—every other light in the hallway is out because our landlord is too cheap to replace the bulbs. I unlock the front door, go inside and make my way up three flights of stairs. At the landing on my floor, the shadows move.

I jump.

A man is standing in the darkness at the side of the stairwell, near my door. Tall, wide, scary as fuck, I don't get any other details. He lunges forward when he sees me. Adrenaline floods my muscles.

I swing my bag at the man's face, and at the same time, turn to run. A shout fills my throat—I can be loud when I need to be.

A hand covers my mouth before it comes out. I slam my elbow backwards into a wall of abs. He grunts, but yanks me into his chest, not letting me go. I stomp on his foot.

"Avery, it's Devon," he says through gritted teeth. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you." His arms slowly relax to let me go.

"I know who you are." I shove my elbow in his stomach again, hard, because it feels good. He lets out a breath in a loud oof.

I didn't know who it was before he said his name, but I still want to scream and fight. I don't want to run away anymore, though.

I want him to hurt like he's hurt me.

His arms aren't holding me anymore, but one hand trails, touching my arm. I step back, out of reach. The chill of the hallway envelopes me without his arms around me.

He sighs. "I didn't realize you wouldn't recognize me. Have I changed so much?"

"No, you are still the same asshole, through and through, but since you were hanging out in the dark I thought you were a run-of-the-mill creeper. You know, stranger danger. Unfortunately for me, you're Devon, instead."

"Haha."

"How did you find me?" I ask.

"It was easy, which is one of the reasons why I'm here," he says. "Can we talk? Inside?" He nods towards my door.

"No."

He's planted like a tree next to my door, though. I don't have the will to fight with him. Besides, he has something I want desperately.

"There's a diner across the street. Buy me dinner and I'll let you talk," I say.

"I'll do more than buy you dinner. Don't you have a coat?" he asks as we walk down the stairs.

I don't answer and a few minutes later, we escape the freezing night and slide into opposite sides of old-fashioned diner booth seats. We order and I cradle my cup of coffee with both hands to warm them.

He stares at my hands as if calculating something. Probably to manipulate me.

I don't anticipate what he says next though.

"There's a serial killer targeting singers in the city."

"What?" I gasp. "There's been nothing about that on the news."

"There's been some missing persons reports, but they've been buried. I have a friend in the force, a detective who told. There's three victims so far, poor and barely getting by."

"That's why no one cares?" I scoff. Unbelievable. "Wait, do you think I'm in danger?"

"Two tenors and an alto have disappeared, in what looks like a kidnapping or possible murders. My source couldn't give me too many details."

"So, someone is putting together an ensemble and your first thought is to, what? Warn me? Scare me to death by hiding in the dark next to my apartment?" I ask.

"This isn't a joke, Avery. The other people targeted were also incredible singers, trained in classical music, opera. They disappeared despite being engaged for performances, giving bogus excuses. There's something going on."

"Ah. Then I'm safe. I'm not actually a performer. But you should know that since you magically know everything else about me right now, including my phone number and address."

I'm ready to leave. There is something going on—not a word of this was in the papers or on the streets. No one was disappearing or being killed. I stand to go.

"Sit down," he says firmly. Too firmly. I continue to move out of the booth. He takes my hand. "Avery. Here is my offer. You need a job. I need a singer. I will cover your current outstanding debts, plus eighty K a year. It's not much, I know, but there are tips and they are generous. The women who work at my club are treated like gold. No one will touch you. No one will one will bother you. And I swear, no one will hurt you while you are under my protection."

Something in his voice tugs at me. No, it was the way his voice became deeper and rougher when he said protection.

But I can't. I can't go to work and see Devon Orlando every day, no matter how much of my debt he erases.

"I'll take my chances. Since I can't sing on stage with my panic attacks, I'm pretty sure I'm safe from the other stalker out there."

I walk out of the diner and straight home, not looking over my shoulder once.

Inside, however, I glance out my window. A man is in the street below, staring up at my building.

But it's not Devon.

*** ONC: 860 words. As always, I appreciate every read! Thank you!!! ***