Safe Hands (1)

Zara sat in her room, the artifacts carefully hidden away in a box beneath her bed. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, but every time she tried to confront it, her father's memory and his supposed protection of her made everything feel justified. He'd kept her in the dark about so much for so long, but she'd grown up believing that his motives were pure. Why would that change now?

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Startled, she glanced at the screen. It was a message from an unknown number.

"I've got your back. The artifacts need to be secured. Don't trust anyone else. You know what to do. Hand them over."

Zara's stomach dropped. The tone was so familiar, yet so eerie. Who was this? Who knew about the artifacts? She couldn't help but remember the strange conversations she'd overheard between her mom and that mysterious visitor—someone had to be keeping an eye on her.

The message mentioned that she needed to keep the artifacts "safe," but who was truly safe in this situation? The only thing she knew for sure was that she couldn't involve anyone else—certainly not Greg, not the police, not even her mom. They were too involved, too connected to the mystery, too many layers of deception.

But who else could she trust?

Her thoughts raced. She needed to find out more, to make sure the message wasn't a trap, but it didn't make sense. If someone truly wanted the artifacts for good, why would they send her a cryptic text instead of approaching her directly?

Suddenly, her phone buzzed again.

"The clock is ticking. If you want to survive, you'll need to act fast. The enemy is closer than you think."

Zara read the message again. It sent a chill down her spine, but there was something about the way it was worded, the urgency in it, that made her feel the weight of her responsibility. The artifacts weren't just trinkets. They were keys to something much bigger.

She got up from her bed, pacing around the room. Who was watching her? And why was she the one chosen for this?

The words of her father echoed in her mind: "Trust no one. Protect the artifacts with your life. They're more important than you'll ever know."

She glanced toward the window. The evening sky was darkening, and the silence in the house seemed to press in on her.

Taking a deep breath, she replied to the message:

"Who are you? Why should I trust you?"

Seconds ticked by as she anxiously awaited a response. Was she about to be led deeper into a world she didn't understand? Was it too late to turn back?

Her phone vibrated again. This time, the message was clear and direct.

"You'll understand soon enough. Protect what's yours. You're not alone."

Zara stared at the screen. Her heart pounded in her chest, the mystery thickening around her with every passing second. She still didn't know who was behind the messages, or if she could even trust them. But one thing was certain: she was standing at the edge of something massive, and there was no turning back now.