As Emily, Mindy, and Camille gathered in Mindy's apartment, the tension in the air was palpable. The situation was growing increasingly dire, and the more they learned—or didn't learn—the more dangerous it seemed. They had all agreed that they needed to figure out who Mahmood was, and whether he was a threat or a possible ally. But they also knew they had to be cautious, considering how Doug's sinister reach seemed to extend into every corner of their lives.
Mindy, ever the pragmatist, broke the silence first. "I have an idea," she said, her voice steady but laced with concern. "What if we meet Mahmood somewhere public? We can see if he's legit or if he's another one of Doug's pawns."
Emily considered this, biting her lip in thought. "It's risky, but it might be our best shot at figuring out who he is. If we meet him, we can gauge if he's trustworthy or if he's playing us."
Camille, however, had another plan in mind. "Or," she interjected, "we could do some research on him before we meet. I can get out my laptop and dig into who this Mahmood guy really is. And while I'm at it, I can look up Derek and Ross too. We need to cover all our bases."
Mindy nodded. "Good idea. We can't be too careful. But just remember, Gabriel's also asking around. He might find something before we do."
Camille shrugged as she pulled her laptop onto the coffee table. "I know Gabriel's helping, but it doesn't hurt to have more eyes on this. Just in case he's busy or if something slips through the cracks."
While Camille began typing furiously on her laptop, Mindy headed to Emily's room to check on her. Emily had been through so much, and Mindy was worried about the toll it was taking on her friend. When she entered the room, she found Emily sitting on the edge of her bed, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear.
"Emily," Mindy said softly, sitting beside her. "Are you okay?"
Emily shook her head, her voice trembling. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, Mindy. Doug… he's in my head. I can't stop thinking about what he'll do next. And now this Mahmood guy… what if he's just another part of Doug's sick game?"
Mindy wrapped an arm around Emily, pulling her close. "We're going to get through this, okay? You're not alone. We'll figure out who Mahmood is, and we'll stop Doug. I promise."
Back in the living room, Camille was deep into her research. She accessed the French police database, searching for any information on Mahmood, Derek, and Ross. The names yielded no results, each search coming back with a frustrating "no search found." It was as if these men didn't exist. Camille's frustration grew with every dead end, and she decided to make some calls, hoping to find someone who had heard of them.
But even that proved fruitless. Everyone she spoke to had no knowledge of Mahmood, Derek, or Ross. It was as if they were ghosts—phantoms conjured up to torment them.
"This is so strange," Camille muttered to herself, clicking through one more screen in the hopes of finding something, anything, that would give them a clue.
Suddenly, Camille's laptop pinged with a new notification. An Instagram message. She glanced at it, her heart skipping a beat when she saw who it was from: Sofia Sideris.
Camille's eyes widened as she read the message. "Camille, I need your help. Please come to the Perrotin Gallery. It's urgent."
A cold shiver ran down Camille's spine. Sofia sounded desperate, and something about the message felt wrong. Without wasting another second, Camille rushed to Emily's room, where she found Emily and Mindy still talking.
"Guys," Camille said, her voice filled with urgency. "I just got a message from Sofia. She's at the Perrotin Gallery, and she needs help. It sounded serious."
Emily and Mindy exchanged worried glances before standing up. "We need to go," Emily said, her fear momentarily pushed aside by concern for Sofia. "Let's get there as fast as we can."
The three women hurried out of the apartment and into the streets of Paris, their hearts pounding as they made their way to the Perrotin Gallery. The city's beauty felt like a cruel contrast to the dark dread they carried with them. When they arrived at the gallery, the building was eerily quiet. The usual buzz of art enthusiasts was absent, and the gallery itself seemed to loom ominously above them.
They entered cautiously, their footsteps echoing in the silent space. The gallery was dimly lit, the soft glow of spotlights highlighting various pieces of modern art. But something was off—there was an unsettling stillness in the air.
"Sofia?" Camille called out, her voice trembling slightly.
There was no response. The silence was deafening, making their nerves fray even more.
"Sofia!" Emily called out, more urgently this time. But again, there was no answer.
As they ventured deeper into the gallery, Mindy suddenly froze, her breath catching in her throat. "Oh my God," she whispered, her eyes wide with horror.
Camille and Emily turned to see what had stopped Mindy in her tracks, and their blood ran cold.
There, in the middle of the gallery floor, lay Sofia. Her eyes were wide open, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Blood pooled around her neck, where her throat had been brutally slit. The sight was grotesque, and the sheer violence of it shocked them to their core.
"Sofia… no," Camille gasped, tears welling up in her eyes as she rushed to her friend's side. But it was too late. Sofia was gone.
Mindy, trembling, pulled out her phone and dialed the police, her hands shaking so badly that she could barely press the buttons. "We need help," she stammered when the operator answered. "There's been a murder… at the Perrotin Gallery…"
As Mindy spoke to the police, Emily, still in shock, noticed something near Sofia's body. A piece of paper, stained with blood, was tucked under Sofia's hand. With trembling fingers, Emily reached for it, unfolding the note with growing dread.
The message was short but horrifying:
"Looks like your friend couldn't make it. Who's next? – Doug"
Emily's vision blurred with tears, and she stumbled backward, her legs threatening to give out. She handed the note to Camille, who read it with a look of pure horror.
"This… this is all Doug," Camille choked out, her voice breaking. "He's done this… to Sofia…"
Mindy, having finished the call with the police, joined them, her face ashen. "The police are on their way," she said, her voice hollow. "But this… this is more than just a sick game now. Doug's escalating. He's not just stalking us—he's killing people."
Emily stared at Sofia's lifeless body, her mind reeling. The horror of the situation was almost too much to bear. Doug's taunts, his threats, the dead rat—all of it had been leading up to this moment. And now, Sofia was dead, a victim of Doug's twisted vendetta.
The sound of approaching sirens filled the air, but the three women stood frozen, unable to tear their eyes away from the gruesome scene before them.
Emily's voice cracked as she spoke. "He won't stop, will he?"
Camille shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No… he won't. Not until he's destroyed us all."
As the police stormed into the gallery, the reality of their situation hit them like a ton of bricks. Doug was more than just a stalker—he was a murderer, and he was coming for them next.
And in that moment, they realized that they were no longer just trying to outsmart him. They were fighting for their lives.