Convicted serial killer.

A chill runs down her spine. She remembers his stare on her the first day.

And then, something turns her blood to ice.

A folded slip of paper has been slid under her door.

She picks it up with trembling hands.

Only three words, written in black ink.

"Sweet dreams, Brooke."

Her stomach twists.

Someone knows where she lives.

The prison is not the only place where she’s trapped.

Third Part: Eyes That Watch

The paper burns in her hand. The words—simple, direct—hook into her mind like a barb.

"Sweet dreams, Brooke."

Someone knows where she lives.

She rushes to the door and yanks it open. The hallway is empty, only the distant buzz of a flickering light breaking the silence. Her breath is shallow, uneven. She looks in both directions, but there’s no one.

She slams the door shut, locks it, and leans against it, heart hammering in her ears. How is this possible? Raker Prison is isolated. Her apartment isn’t registered under her name. Only the warden and Dorothy knew where she lived.