Chapter 5 · Kill the Back Light
I stared at the super chat.
Kill the back light, Ivy. Your sister doesn't want blood on the floor.
My hands were still on the keyboard. Chat was going insane. Someone grabbed a screenshot before I could delete it. The viewer count jumped to four hundred. Then five.
"Okay." I pushed back from the desk. "Okay."
I wasn't talking to chat. I was talking to myself.
Sister.
I didn't have a sister.
Mom never mentioned a sister. Cole said she disappeared twenty years ago off a hunter list. He didn't say anything about me having a sister. He said they came for her because she changed. He said they'd come for me too.
I looked at the ring light behind me. The big circular one Dennis bought me last Christmas because he said my lighting was garbage and it hurt to watch my streams. White LED. Bright as hell. Visible from the street if someone stood at the right angle.
I got up and unplugged it.
The room went darker. Just the monitor glow now. Blue and cold.
Chat noticed.
**xXShadowXx:** yo she actually did it **CoffeeFiend88:** IVY WHAT'S GOING ON **LunaHowl:** this is NOT a bit anymore
I sat back down. My mic was still hot. I could hear myself breathing.
"I'm good," I said. "Just adjusted something."
My voice sounded steady. That surprised me.
Another super chat. Fifty bucks.
**Silent_Tracker:** Not enough. Kill the monitor backlight. Kill the overhead. Kill everything but your phone. Do it now.
Five hundred viewers.
Someone in chat said, "She's actually scared."
I wasn't scared.
I was pissed.
This was my house. My room. My stream. I worked double shifts at Dennis's shop so I could pay rent on this place. I moved out here to the edge of the city limits because it was cheap and quiet and nobody asked questions when I called in sick on full moons. I kept my head down. I didn't hurt anyone.
And now some mystery chatter who claimed to be my sister was telling me to sit in the dark.
I leaned into the mic.
"You want me in the dark?" I said. "Why?"
No answer.
Chat was a wall of question marks and popcorn emojis.
I checked the super chat log. Silent_Tracker had donated six hundred dollars in the last two hours. The name was new. Account created three days ago. No profile picture. No bio.
My phone buzzed on the desk.
Text from Cole: *Don't stream tonight. I'm serious.*
Too late for that.
I typed back: *Someone says she's my sister.*
Three dots. Then: *What?*
*Silent_Tracker. Says kill the lights or there's blood on the floor.*
The dots stayed for a long time.
Then: *Get out. Right now.*
I looked at the monitor. Six hundred viewers. Biggest stream I'd ever had. The ad revenue alone would cover groceries for two weeks.
"Here's the thing," I said to chat. To Silent_Tracker. To whoever. "I'm not running."
Another super chat. One hundred.
**Silent_Tracker:** Then you're already dead.
Something moved outside.
I heard it before I saw it. A scrape. Metal on concrete. My window faced the back lot. There was nothing out there except the dumpster and a busted chain-link fence.
I turned my head.
The curtain was open. I always kept it open. I liked the natural light during the day.
Now I could see my own reflection in the glass. Me. The glow of the monitor behind me. The desk. The microphone arm. The empty energy drink cans.
And something else.
A shadow. Just outside the window. Too tall to be a dog. Too still to be a person walking by.
Chat saw me looking.
**xXShadowXx:** what is she looking at **CoffeeFiend88:** IVY??? **LunaHowl:** OH MY GOD THERE'S SOMETHING OUTSIDE
I reached for the overhead light switch.
The window exploded.
Glass blew inward. I threw my arms up. Something hot ripped across my forearm. I fell backward. The chair hit the wall. My headset cable yanked tight and the mic crashed down.
I heard chat screaming through the headset on the floor.
I heard something else.
Breathing.
I looked up.
A man stood in the window frame. Boots crunched on broken glass. He was wearing black. Tactical vest. Gloves. No mask. He didn't need one. His face was calm. Bored, almost.
He looked at me. Then at the monitor.
"Streaming," he said. "Of course."
He had a weapon. Not a gun. Something else. A stick. No. A baton. Silver. It caught the monitor light and I felt my stomach drop.
Silver meant they knew.
I tried to stand. My legs didn't cooperate. I slid sideways against the wall. Blood ran down my arm. The cut wasn't deep but it burned.
The man stepped into the room.
"Ivy Chen," he said. "You match the profile. Lone female streamer. Seattle zone. Inconsistent schedule. Social media blackout on lunar peaks."
He tilted his head.
"You're sloppy," he said.
I couldn't breathe.
He raised the baton.
My phone lit up on the desk.
Not a text. A call. Auto-answer.
A voice came through the speaker. Female. Young. Cold.
"Stop."
The man stopped.
He looked at the phone. Then at me.
"Gray," he said. "I have the target."
The voice on the phone didn't hesitate.
"Stand down."
"She's confirmed. She fits every marker. The super chat event triggered the alarm."
"I said stand down."
Silence.
The man's jaw tightened. He didn't lower the baton.
"This isn't protocol," he said.
"I'm changing protocol," the voice said. "Walk away."
He stared at the phone for five long seconds.
Then he looked at me.
"You're lucky," he said.
He turned and climbed back through the window. I heard his boots hit the pavement outside. Then nothing.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
My phone was still lit. The call was still active. I could see the timer running. Forty-two seconds. Forty-three.
I dragged myself to the desk and grabbed it.
"Who are you?" I said.
The voice was quiet for a moment.
Then: "You already know."
I didn't. I did.
"Silent_Tracker," I said.
"Leah," she said. "Leah Gray."
My throat closed up.
"You said sister," I managed.
"Half," she said. "Same mother. Different fathers. She didn't tell you."
I looked at the broken window. The glass on the floor. The blood on my arm.
"Why?" I said.
Leah didn't answer right away.
When she did, her voice was different. Softer. Tired.
"Because I didn't want them to find you first," she said. "But you made it too easy. The stream. The schedule gaps. The way you flinched when the wolf howled in-game last week. You're loud, Ivy."
I wanted to throw the phone.
I wanted to scream.
Instead I said, "What do you want?"
Another pause.
"Meet me," Leah said. "Downstairs. Front door. Five minutes."
The call ended.
I stared at the black screen.
Then I looked at my monitor. The stream was still live. Chat was losing it. The viewer count hit nine hundred.
My hands were shaking.
I reached for the mouse. Hovered over the End Stream button.
My phone buzzed.
Not a text. A notification. My own stream. Someone was watching from inside the building.
The feed thumbnail loaded.
Security camera angle. Ground floor. The lobby.
Leah Gray stood in front of my door.