The Warning

Emma's POV

Emma erased the impossible text message three times, but it kept coming back.

As she looked at the screen, her hands shook. Rebecca's phone was meant to be with the police. Someone who is dead didn't send a message. This had to be a sick joke, or the killer might still have Rebecca's phone.

"Emma?" Ryan's voice broke through her fear. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

She quickly put the phone in her pocket. She couldn't tell this sweet stranger that her dead cousin was apparently texting her from beyond the grave. Ryan would believe she was crazy.

"Sorry, just work stuff," Emma lied, forcing a smile. "You mentioned coffee?"

She couldn't stop thinking about the message though as they walked through the park. Do not believe anyone. He's coming for you next. What did that mean? Who was coming for her? And why would Rebecca think Emma was in danger?

The rain started falling harder, soaking through Emma's running clothes. Ryan quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. The action was so sweet, so protective, that Emma felt her heart flutter.

"You don't have to—" she started.

"My mom raised me to be a gentleman," Ryan said with that amazing smile. "Besides, you're shivering."

Emma pulled his jacket tighter around herself. It smelled like expensive cologne and something else she couldn't name. Something clean and safe. For the first time since the phone call about Rebecca, she felt like maybe everything would be okay.

They found a 24-hour diner near the park. Ryan insisted on paying for Emma's coffee and toast, even though she argued. He listened with genuine worry as she told him about Rebecca, about their stupid fight, about how guilty she felt.

"You can't blame yourself," Ryan said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "Family fights happen. What matters is that you loved her."

Emma felt tears prick her eyes again. When was the last time someone had shown her this much kindness? Her last boyfriend had been selfish and nasty. Her friends were too busy with their own lives to really listen. But Ryan, a total stranger, was treating her like she mattered.

"I should probably go home," Emma said after they'd talked for an hour. "The police want to see me this morning."

"Of course," Ryan said, standing up instantly. "Let me drive you. You shouldn't be alone right now."

Emma stopped. Her mother had always warned her about getting in cars with strange guys. But Ryan felt different. Safe. And after the weird text message, she didn't really want to be alone.

"Okay," she said. "Thank you."

Ryan's car was nice but not flashy. Clean and organized, like everything else about him. As he drove through the early morning streets, he asked thoughtful questions about her work, her dreams, her fears. Emma found herself opening up in ways she never did with people she'd known for months.

"You're a really good listener," she told him as they pulled up outside her apartment building.

"You're easy to listen to," Ryan responded, his blue eyes warm and sincere. "Emma, I know this might sound crazy since we just met, but would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I feel like we have a real bond."

Emma's heart did a little flip. She'd felt the link too, that rare spark that made her believe in romance again. "I'd love that," she said.

They swapped phone numbers, and Ryan promised to text her about dinner plans. As Emma watched him drive away, she felt lighter than she had in months. Maybe Rebecca's death was a horrible disaster, but maybe it had also brought something beautiful into Emma's life.

She was still smiling when she unlocked her apartment door.

The smile died on her lips when she saw what was waiting inside.

Her apartment had been wrecked. Furniture overturned, drawers pulled out, papers spread everywhere. Someone had torn the place apart looking for something.

Emma's first reaction was to run, but her legs wouldn't move. She stood frozen in the doorway, looking at the chaos that used to be her safe space.

That's when she heard the footsteps behind her.

Emma spun around to find a tall man in an expensive suit standing in the hallway. He had cold black eyes and a smile that made her skin crawl.

"Emma Martinez," he said, like he was meeting an old friend. "We need to talk."

"Who are you?" Emma whispered, backing into her destroyed apartment.

"Someone who knew your cousin very well," the man said, moving closer. "Someone who knows why she really died."

Emma's phone buzzed with another text. She looked down without thinking.

This time the message wasn't from Rebecca's phone. It was from an unknown number: "The man with you right now killed Rebecca. RUN."

Emma looked up to find the stranger reading over her shoulder. His cold smile widened when he saw the message.

"Interesting," he said. "It seems someone's been watching us both."

Emma's mind raced. This man had killed Rebecca. He'd broken into her room. And now he was blocking her only exit.

"What do you want?" she asked, shocked by how steady her voice sounded.

"The same thing Rebecca had," the man said. "Information about a common friend of ours. A man who's been very naughty lately."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but you do," the stranger said, pulling out a picture. "You saved his life five years ago on the Brooklyn Bridge. Marcus Webb. Ring any bells?"

Emma looked at the photo. It showed a man with dark hair and brown eyes, but something about the face was familiar. Very familiar.

With growing fear, Emma realized where she'd seen that face before.

The bone structure was different. The coloring was wrong. But the eyes, the smile, the way he held his head...

"Ryan," she whispered.

The man nodded approvingly. "Very good. Though I believe he's calling himself Ryan Cole these days. Tell me, Emma, how did your coffee date go this morning?"

Emma's world turned sideways. The kind, gentle man who'd caught her when she fell, who'd listened to her pain, who'd made her feel safe and treasured... was Marcus Webb. The same Marcus she'd talked off the Brooklyn Bridge five years ago.

The same Marcus who'd obviously been lying to her from the moment they met.

"He's been planning this for months," the stranger added. "Studying you, learning your habits, becoming exactly what you needed him to be. And you fell for it exactly."

Emma's phone buzzed again. Another message from the unknown number: "Vincent Torrino is lying too. They're working together. Trust no one. Get out NOW."

Emma looked at the man - Vincent - and saw his face change when he read the message. The cold smile vanished, replaced by genuine fear.

"That's impossible," Vincent mumbled. "No one else knows about the plan."

"What plan?" Emma demanded.

But Vincent was already backing toward the door, his eyes moving around like he expected an attack.

"This changes everything," he said, more to himself than to Emma. "If someone else is in the game..."

He looked at Emma one last time. "Congratulations, my dear. You've just become the most dangerous woman in New York City. And you don't even know why."

Vincent disappeared into the hallway, leaving Emma alone with her destroyed apartment and a dozen scary questions.

Who was sending the warning messages? How did they know about Marcus and Vincent? And most importantly... If Vincent and Marcus were both after her, and someone else was hunting all of them, who could she possibly trust?

Emma's phone rang. The caller ID showed Ryan's number.

Her finger hovered over the answer button, shaking.