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Lena bolted upright, the shrill blare slicing through the remnants of a dream she could no longer recall. Her hand shot out instinctively, fingers fumbling across the smooth surface of the nightstand, knocking over an empty glass before finally silencing the sound. She sat there for a moment, disoriented, heart racing as her eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtains.She glanced at the clock. 3:17 a.m.Her breath caught in her throat. The alarm was set for 6 a.m.—no earlier. She never made mistakes like this. A deliberate person by nature, Lena prided herself on precision, on control. The day stretched before her in tightly organized increments: the morning jog, the afternoon meeting, the evening glass of wine. Yet, now, the dissonant reality of the time flickered in red digits across her vision, stubborn and unreal.Her pulse still thrummed unnervingly in her ears, but something else lurked beneath the surface of her nerves—an unsettled feeling that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. It wasn't just the alarm; it was the quietness of the room. The stillness felt... wrong.She swung her legs out of bed and stood, the floor cold beneath her bare feet. The apartment creaked with the usual nighttime sounds, but tonight they felt different—more pronounced. Lena padded cautiously to the door, every movement deliberate, careful not to disturb the oppressive silence. She pressed her ear to the wood.Nothing. No intruders. No signs of life beyond the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant thrum of the city. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though—like a presence had shifted the air, disturbed the molecules around her, leaving only a faint trace of its existence.Pushing the door open, she peered down the hallway. Darkness stretched from the bedroom to the kitchen, the space hollow, echoing back the faint shuffle of her movements. Lena walked down the corridor, every step deliberate. She flicked the kitchen light on, the sudden brightness stinging her eyes. The room stood still, untouched.She exhaled shakily. It was probably just a glitch with the alarm clock. A coincidence, she reassured herself. But something in her gut resisted the logic, the rational explanation she so often relied on.Her eyes drifted to the window. The city outside gleamed as it always did, bathed in the dull orange glow of streetlights, high-rises reaching into the night sky like jagged teeth. But there was something off, something Lena couldn't quite pinpoint.She pulled the curtain aside, her gaze locking on the street below. At first, nothing seemed out of place. The usual rows of cars parked in neat lines, the soft glow from apartment windows dotting the darkness. But then she noticed it—a car, black, sleek, and unfamiliar, idling across the street, engine barely audible. Its headlights were off, but the faint glow of dashboard lights illuminated the outline of someone sitting behind the wheel. They were waiting.A chill slithered down Lena's spine. She stepped back from the window, heart pounding louder now, more insistent. She tried to breathe through the rising panic, her mind racing through possibilities. This wasn’t some benign error in her routine—this was deliberate. Something was wrong.She backed away from the window and into the kitchen again. Her phone. She needed to call someone—anyone. But even as she reached for it, something in her warned against the action. Who would she call? The police? And say what, exactly? That her alarm went off early and there was a car on the street? They would dismiss her concerns as paranoia.Suddenly, her phone vibrated on the counter. The screen illuminated with a notification.Unknown Caller.Lena froze, fingers hovering over the device, her breath catching again. She hesitated for just a second too long, and the call ended. Almost immediately, another notification popped up: New Voicemail. She didn’t remember her phone ringing, didn’t hear any sound except the persistent pulse of her own blood.A thousand thoughts collided in her head, but Lena pressed play, holding her breath as the message began.At first, there was only static, a faint crackle like radio interference. Then a voice—distorted, low, almost mechanical—whispered her name. "Lena."She dropped the phone.The sound echoed in the quiet room, the clatter sharp against the tile floor. It bounced once before lying still, screen cracked but still glowing faintly. For a moment, she couldn’t move. It was as if her body had locked in place, refusing to respond to the terror gripping her. Then, slowly, she crouched down, retrieving the phone with trembling hands.The voicemail was still open, waiting. She hit the pause button, her mind spinning. Someone knew her name. Someone had deliberately triggered the alarm, made that call. She was no longer imagining it. There was no denying the reality anymore: someone was watching her.What now? Every logical part of her screamed to run, to leave the apartment, to escape whatever this was. But where would she go? And more importantly—who could she trust?Lena's mind raced back to earlier that week. She had been working on a case—just another project, another corporate negotiation involving delicate government contracts. She had thought little of it at the time, just another day at the office. But the client had been insistent—uncomfortably so—about the security measures surrounding the documents. Lena hadn’t given it much thought then. After all, every big deal had its share of paranoia. But now...Her mind snapped to the black car outside. Had they followed her here? Was this connected to the case? Was she in danger because of some transaction gone awry?Her hands shook as she typed out a message to the only person she could think of—David, her colleague. Maybe he knew something. Maybe he could help.Before she hit send, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, unmistakable, heavy. Lena froze. Someone was inside.She darted for the kitchen drawer, fumbling for the largest knife she could find, her pulse thundering in her ears. She didn’t dare breathe. The footsteps grew louder, deliberate, methodical, as if whoever was walking through her apartment knew exactly where they were going.Her heart raced as she crept toward the hallway, knife clutched tightly in her hand. The dim light from the kitchen stretched into the darkness, casting long shadows across the floor. She pressed her back against the wall, waiting, listening.The footsteps stopped, just outside the kitchen. The silence that followed was unbearable, thick with tension. Lena tightened her grip on the knife, every muscle in her body tensed, ready to strike—or flee.A voice, soft, almost mocking, drifted from the shadows."You shouldn't have ignored the first warning."Lena's breath hitched, her mind reeling. She hadn't been paranoid. The alarm, the voicemail, the car—it was all part of something bigger, something darker than she had imagined.Before she could react, a figure emerged from the hallway, stepping into the faint light. A man, dressed in black, face shadowed beneath a hood. His presence filled the room with a palpable threat, his posture relaxed, as if he already knew the outcome of this encounter.Lena's mind raced. She had seconds, maybe less. The knife in her hand suddenly felt insignificant, useless against the certainty of what was happening.The man took a step forward, his gaze locking onto hers."You’re not going anywhere, Lena."And in that moment, she realized he was right. The alarm hadn't been an accident. It had been a warning—a prelude to what was already set in motion, something she couldn't escape.Her world had already begun to unravel.

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The Warning Before Dawn

ivanngimenezz_

Ivan Gimenez

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The Warning

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Ivan Gimenez

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