Emi and I trudge up the metal stairs leading to our apartment. Our shoes clang on the metal stairs, a conversation between the soles of our feet rather than a verbal one. Emi hasn't spoken a word to me since leaving the venue.

I don't blame her. Honestly, I'm starting to doubt whether there truly was a threat at the classical music gala. Maybe I'm just super jumpy since that night on the street. I might've just killed our nearly ten year friendship over a non-existent threat.

It was going to happen sooner or later. Emi has always been more stable, a grounding force that kept me sane. If not for her, I wouldn't have graduated college because I would never have studied, never turned in any papers, never read my textbook or attended lectures. She is the reason I am where I am today. And I blew it. I should've listened to her.

A warm breeze whispers over my skin, plucks at my straight hair lying around my shoulders. It would've been the perfect evening. I hadn't enjoyed playing this much in a long time. The music just felt right, and the people around me seemed to like it, too. We might've even been offered to do another gig if we hadn't left. Guilt swells inside me along with tears.

It's too late to salvage. It's all over.

The end of our five-story climb is in sight. Our apartment sits just one more flight of stairs above us. I take another step when Emi's hand lands on the sleeve of my black sweater.

"I thought we left the light on."

My gaze drifts up to our apartment, right by the stairs. She's right; the window blends into the night. I sigh. Another problem to deal with. "The bulb must've burned. I'll buy a replacement first thing tomorrow."

Emi scoffs. "With what money?"

"With whatever I've earned..." I trail off. "You know what, you can have the gig money. I'll... come up with something."

Emi looks up at the apartment. In the streetlight below, I can make out her face, creased in thought.

I inhale a deep breath. Better to do damage control earlier rather than later. "Look, Emi, I'm so—"

She holds up her hand. Oh boy. She's really mad. Emi ascends the stairs quickly and quietly, managing only a few soft thuds on the stairs. I follow suit. At the door, Emi pauses, craning her ear.

There's nothing at first. All I can hear is blood rushing in my ears, my heart hammering in my chest. The doorknob is inches away, but my hand is stuck at my side. They refuse to move to my keys because there's something off. The light is always on when we get home. Sure, the bulb might've blown, but if not... someone must've tampered with it. I inhale a deep breath, trying to expel my anxiety. I'm not one for breathing techniques, but a slow exhale never hurts.

Right now, it doesn't really help, either.

Air rustles behind the door. I freeze, my eyes widening. I turn to Emi, who's equally motionless. Fear paralyzes her features.

I tune my ears to the silence, searching for a slightest noise that might disturb it. This is nonsense. You're just paranoid. The stillness is drawn tighter. I'm acutely aware of the twitches in my fingers and legs. And then I hear it, the softest breaths, in and out, in and out. Panic rises inside me, as does adrenaline. My heart beat rises in tempo against my chest.

There's a slight shuffling behind the door, and the faintest whisper reaches us. For the first time, I'm both grateful for and terrified of the thin apartment walls.

"...ought... be here... now."

"...know but..."

The rest is unintelligible.

Thoughts tear through my head. Someone's in the house. We need to call the police. Get the heck out of here.

A stillness returns, the last of whispers whisked away from my ears by another swirl of the breeze. Every muscle is tensed as I pause by the door, unable to move or think. Adrenaline overwhelms my senses. My hands tremble at my sides, threatening to drop my viola case on the ground.

I turn to Emi and mouth, "we need to go."

She swallows. Her feet are glued to the cement, just like mine are. We stand there, listening, waiting, hoping that the whispers were only our imagination.

The door handle creaks.

Emi and I bolt for the stairs. Our flats clang against the metal. I leap off the bottom few steps before starting on the next row. Emi's panting breaths are loud in my ears. I glance behind, then grab her violin case with my free hand. She doesn't object. The added weight slows me down, and I'm not used to carrying an instrument with my left arm, but it allows Emi to run faster. Tremors run through my entire body, from my arms to my hands to my legs and feet.

Is it my imagination, or does the racket seem to increase? I risk a glance above. Black flashes around a bend in the stairwell. There's a muffled sound from above, like an egg shell cracking on the ground, and something whizzes past my face. I don't know what it is, and I don't want to find out.

"Emi, they're after us!" I whisper. Emi's pace quickens in front of me. We barrel down the stairs, despite the violin case weighing down my left arm. Exhaustion racks my body, and my lungs burn. Only adrenaline and fear propel me forward.

I jump down the final few stairs and dart behind the narrow space between the stairs and the giant, municipal trash can. Emi joins me, taking loud gulps of air.

"Shh," I hush her. She presses her lips together, silent tears streaming down her face. A person in black rushes past us, though I can't get a good look at them. Footsteps dissipate into the night.

I count the seconds that pass. Inhale, two, three. Exhale, two, three, four.

"I think they're gone," I breathe after a minute. Emi jolts her head in a series of nods. "We need to get out of here. Got the car keys?" Emi nods again. Her shaking hand drops to her pocket, returning with the keys in a tight fist.

I poke my head out from behind the blue plastic. No one's in sight.

"Ready?" I whisper.

Emi's chest rises and falls. Slowly, she nods once more.

"One, two, three!"

We dash from our hiding place to the parking lot. I just reach the edge of the cars when another object shoots past my face. I duck behind a silver sedan, pulling Emi down with me while she gives a tiny cry of surprise. Footsteps pound in our direction. From the streetlight illuminating the ground, I spot a black shell beside me — a bullet.

Staying low to the ground, we creep among the parked cars. More muted gunshots puncture the night as the two men in dark suits stalk through the lot. One approaches, footsteps clipping against the concrete as a shadow emerges from between two cars. I duck behind an SUV. My head pounds. Beside me, Emi's face is scrunched, and her upper teeth are sunken into her lower lip.

He comes closer and closer.

My fingers tighten around the instrument cases. Press, release. Press, release.

Frantically, I search the lot for Emi's car. It's only two vehicles to our right. If we can just make it, we can escape.

The footsteps pause. My heart is hammering. From the other side, the other man approaches swiftly. Emi and I make eye contact, and a pained expression crosses her face. We must be thinking the same thing. Eventually, we have to bolt for it.

"Think they ran for the road?" one man whispers.

"Naw. They're here. It's only a matter of time before we flush them out."

I dare a peek around the SUV's chrome side. They stand angled in our direction. I duck back slightly but keep watching.

"What's their license again?"

For a split second, both men look down at a phone. I turn to Emi and mouth, "now!"

We dart to Emi's Honda. A beep pierces the night, the sound of the car doors unlocking. Fear flashes across Emi's face, but we duck inside the vehicle, slamming the doors shut just as the men whirl around. Glass shatters, and Emi shrieks. Her trembling hands stab the keys into the side of the car before they slide into the ignition. The car screeches backward, then Emi slams her foot on the gas. We zoom from the parking lot as bullets pummel the car.

"Oh my gosh," Emi sobs. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh."

The car tears down the road. Blood still pounds in my ears, and I am numb to everything except impending danger.

After a few minutes, I can finally register the void of gunshots. Only our car engine drones in the background. Ten minutes pass, then fifteen. The adrenaline finally filters from my veins, and sensation returns to my limbs. Panicked thoughts no longer swarm my head. Instead, the immensity of the situation crashes over me.

"What... just happened?" I say.

"That's what I want to know!" Emi's shoulders tremble. Tears streak her cheeks. She makes a sharp turn around a bend, tires squealing. We bump the side of the curb, but Emi slams her foot on the gas, and we shoot over it and back onto the road. The car weaves between the white painted lines. I glance behind me. I'm not sure which is more dangerous right now: the people from our apartment, who could still be following us, or Emi.

"I-I don't think they're after us," I stammer.

"And yet they were in our apartment?" Emi practically shrieks.

"You can slow down to a normal speed." If anything, we go faster. "It's been fifteen minutes. I don't think they're following us. If they were, they'd have caught us a long time ago."

A few beats pass before I feel the car decelerate. Trees are no longer a dark blur alongside us.

"Why were they in our apartment?" Emi says quietly. "What could they have wanted?"

"No idea."

It's only half true. I don't know for sure, but I can make an educated guess. We're not exactly on the nice side of town, and we live in a crummy apartment. If these criminals did their research, they wouldn't be looking for money or valuables. And robbers probably wouldn't shoot at us during our getaway, which leaves only one option.

Silverenn.

Somehow, they found out that we have her music. They must be after the treasure, too.

My mind whirls, trying to place all these little disjointed pieces together. The mobsters in our apartment must be connected to the people from the gala. They must be searching for the Silverenn songs. Maybe that's why they hired us to play at the gala, to get us out of the house long enough for them to search it. Little did they know that I had them with me the whole time in my viola case.

But if they planned to kill us, why let us walk out of the gala? Couldn't they have done more to stop us from leaving? Unless they wanted to make sure they got a hold of the Silverenn songs first. Who knows? We could've put them in a bank vault that they can't access.

"I must say," Emi says. "Your intuition was pretty spot on tonight."

"Huh?"

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we went home. 'Cause if we hadn't, we wouldn't have caught those robbers in our home. Though it's pretty weird how it all played out. It's almost like they waiting for us to get home so they could..."

Kill us, I finish silently.

"I just... how did they know we were coming home? Did they have a lookout at the window?"

I inhale a deep breath. "Emi, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think the gala we were invited to perform at was a front." Emi's face remains tense in concentration. "Look, I saw two people at the party who were involved in all the weird instrument shuffling we saw at the warehouse. Now that can't be a coincidence."

Emi sighs. "We don't know for sure that the people at the warehouse were mobsters. They could've been... I don't know, working there?"

I pull out my phone and do a quick search for the warehouse. "Google says it's abandoned. Registered to no business."

We drive in silence for a little bit.

"Okay, fine. Maybe it is a little suspicious," Emi admits. "We'd better call the police."

"And report what?"

"A robbery, of course!"

"We don't know if anything was stolen. And I refuse to go back to find out."

"Fine, you're right. A break-in then."

I start to dial, then pause. "Do you think we should mention Silverenn?"

Another pause fills the air. Emi sighs.

"Maybe? I mean, they might know if the mob is active in this area."

"Yeah." I stare down at the dial pad. "But wait, what if they don't believe us? What if they think we're crazy? We need some sort of proof."

"The bullet holes in the car?"

I think for a moment. "That ought to do it. Let's drive over to the station now."