Your phone is face-down on the table. It doesn't matter. You can feel the buzzing through the surface — rapid, relentless, like a pulse that won't stop. 47 messages in 10 minutes. You stopped reading after the first ten. When you finally try to close the app, the screen flickers. The exit loops back. Every tap, every swipe — it just opens him again. Then, between his messages, something else slips through. A name you don't recognize. A single line that makes your stomach drop. The app is patched. He built this. And now you need to figure out how deep the cage goes before he notices you're already trying to find the door.