The sky was heavy with storm clouds, drowning the last traces of light and wrapping the street in menacing darkness.

  Headlights tore through the curtain of rain, cutting toward Leyla like the eyes of a predator. The blinding wall of glare, smeared across the wet asphalt, made it impossible to see straight.

  Numb from the cold, she pushed forward unsteadily, groping her way until she had to stop. She froze, anxiety kicking in her chest, waiting for the car to pass.

  Better a head cold than ending up scraped off the pavement like some idiot, she thought, her stiff fingers clamped tight on the handlebars.

  Her jaw dropped when the car slowed with a low groan, coming to a stop just a few feet away.

  Leyla squinted, straining to cut through the glare of the headlights and make out the shape of the vehicle. But the rain had thickened, and the heavy darkness seemed to conspire against her, shrinking the world to a tiny slice of visibility.

  What the hell are they doing? At least kill the damn lights, she thought, in her head, half annoyed, half uneasy.

  She settled on the soaked seat, cold gnawing at her bones, sharp rain stinging her face.

  The solar streetlights cast a pale, flickering glow that danced like ghosts across the wet asphalt. Far from comforting, the light only amplified Leyla’s unease, as if the world around her had slipped into some in-between place, suspended between reality and nightmare.

  Apart from the whistle of the wind, whispering a warning she couldn’t quite catch, and the obsessive drumming of rain on her jacket, there was a heavy, suffocating silence. Within a mile, no one else was around, just Leyla and whatever was hiding inside that car.

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  “Couldn’t they hurry up?” she whispered, her teeth clattering like a clock gone haywire.

  It was time to decide. Leyla couldn’t hesitate any longer.

  Rage surged inside her, pressure building like a dam about to give. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the handlebars. Then, after a deep breath, she pushed down on the pedals, determined to head home.

  But the moment the bike moved, the car came alive with a menacing roar, swerved into the opposite lane, and cut her path.

  Her stomach knotted hard. Her heart pounded, ready to burst.

  “Are they out of their damn minds?!” Leyla shouted, her voice caught between disbelief and terror.

  The car crept forward.

  Do they really want to run me over? she thought. Her mind spun, a sinister buzz echoing in her skull. Panic swelled inside her. The anger she’d felt evaporated, leaving only fear. Her thoughts tangled into static, each one more frantic than the last.

  No logic. Just instinct screaming: danger.

  Leyla spun around, eyes scanning desperately for someone, anyone. But the street was empty, swallowed by a surreal silence as the car drew closer.

  She felt the soaked fabric of her jacket stick to her skin, amplifying the cold that pinned her in place.

  Then, suddenly, the car stopped. Still. Just a few feet away.

  A primal instinct screamed inside her: run!

  But her legs felt like lead, locked to the pedals.

  With a screech, the rear doors swung open. Two dark figures stepped out into the rain. Leyla couldn’t make out their faces. They were wrapped in long black coats, caps pulled low over their eyes, scarves covering nose and mouth. Every slow, deliberate movement radiated menace.

  Leyla’s heart pounded like a drum against her ribs. Panic left a bitter taste in her mouth. Never had danger felt so real. The cold air bit into her skin, while a strange numbness crept through her limbs, clashing with her fevered mind, racing for a way out.

  Fight? Run? Stay frozen?

  Every option throbbed with a terrible omen.

  The tension was so thick Leyla could feel it crawling under her skin, like an invisible current.

  The drumming of water on nearby leaves seemed to vanish. She was suspended in a stretched-out moment, teetering between the instinct screaming at her to run and the uncertainty of what a single move might trigger.

  The two figures closed in, silent, their steps barely audible, as if gravity didn’t touch them.

  “What do you want?” she whispered hoarsely, but they gave no sign of hearing her, moving forward like unfeeling automatons.

  Then, suddenly, one of them raised a hand, slow, deliberate, and unmistakable.

  Leyla held her breath, heart hammering in her throat, the metallic taste of fear coating her tongue.

  The world stopped.

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