The security feed shows Liv shifting slightly in bed. The movement looks natural and practiced. Like someone who’s learned to fake sleep convincingly.
“Keep watching her,” I instruct. “Every movement, every pattern. She’ll slip eventually. Everyone does.”
Marcus nods, already turning back to his work. “One more thing,” he adds. “Her internet usage? Non-existent. Hasn’t touched the network we set up. Either she’s suddenly developed a digital aversion…”
“Or she’s got another way to connect,” I finish. “Find it.”
I pace the length of Marcus’s desk, my mind racing through possibilities. “The tradecraft—it makes sense now. Her documentary work in the Middle East focused on women in conflict zones. Eight months embedded with female resistance fighters.” The pieces click together, forming a clearer picture of Eve’s capabilities.
“Those documentaries were something else,” Marcus says, surprising me. “The one about the Kurdish women fighters? Raw stuff. No fancy camera work, just brutal honesty.”
I stop pacing. “You watched her work?”
“Hard not to be curious about the woman who’s got you running surveillance ops at midnight.” He shrugs, eyes still on the monitors. “She’s got talent. Makes you feel like you’re right there in the dirt with them.”
My jaw tightens. I’d tracked her career, collected press clippings, and followed her movements—but I’d never watched her actual documentaries. Too personal. Too real to see her alive and breathing on camera.
“Show me what else you found,” I say, deflecting.
Marcus pulls up a folder. “She learned from the best. Those women taught her how to move unseen, how to hide things in plain sight. How to survive.”
I lean against the desk, an idea forming. “Scale back the surveillance.”
“What?” Marcus’s fingers freeze over his keyboard.
“Not all of it. Make it look like technical issues. Camera malfunctions in strategic spots. Create blind spots. Appear to allow her more leeway.”
His eyebrows rise slightly, but he knows better than to question me directly. “You want to give her rope.”
“I want her to think she has rope.” I move to the monitors, studying Eve’s still form. “She’s too careful when she knows she’s being watched. Too controlled.”
“And you think giving her the illusion of freedom will make her slip up?”
“Everyone reveals themselves when they think no one’s watching.” I tap the screen showing her bedroom. “Kill this camera first. Make it look like interference from the building’s electrical system.”
Marcus nods slowly. “Which tracking systems should we disable?”
“The ones on the east side of the penthouse. Leave enough working that she’ll still be cautious, but give her places to hide.” The familiar thrill of the hunt courses through me, mixed with something darker. Something that has nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with the way Eve’s skin felt under my hands an hour ago.
Every instinct screams for more control, not less. But I force those thoughts down, focusing on the calculated risk. “Set it up.”
I study the wall of monitors before me, each screen a window into my carefully constructed world. Eve’s form remains motionless in her bed, but the steady rise and fall of her chest tells me she’s still awake, still planning.
“Set up those blind spots exactly as discussed,” I tell Marcus. “Start with the east corridor camera, then the one in the secondary living area. Make it look natural.”
The screens flicker as Marcus implements the changes. One by one, strategic gaps appear in my surveillance network—calculated weaknesses designed to draw Liv out.
“What about the elevator sensors?” Marcus asks.
“Leave those active. She’ll expect them.” I tap the edge of the desk, considering the layers of deception we’re crafting. “The goal is to make her think she’s found genuine vulnerabilities.”
Marcus nods, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. “And the network disruptions?”
“Intermittent. Random enough to seem legitimate, but consistent enough to be predictable.” The pattern will be subtle—most wouldn’t notice it. But Liv will. She’s too sharp not to.
I straighten my shoulders, feeling the familiar tension of orchestrating a complex operation. The monitors cast a blue glow across the room, creating shadows that mirror the depths of this game we’re playing.
I check each screen one final time, ensuring every detail aligns with our strategy. The trap is elegant in its simplicity—a series of apparent weaknesses that will guide Liv exactly where I want her.
