He probably thought he was being chivalrous, picking up a lonely girl at a bar, playing out his little fantasy. He never thought someone might be watching. He certainly never thought the price of a smile could be this high.
Pavel stands in the corner, silent, arms folded. The man glances at him, looking for mercy, but finds nothing. I clear my throat, and the room sharpens, every eye turning to me.
“Tom,” I say, voice calm. “Or is it Ryan? Or perhaps you have another name I should use?”
He stammers, words spilling. “It’s Tom. That’s my name. I just… look, I met her at the bar. We talked. She wanted to come with me. Nothing happened. I swear to God, nothing happened.”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “You think I care about your intentions? Do you think I’m here to listen to you whine about what you didn’t do?”
He swallows, nods frantically. “Please, just let me go. I don’t know her. I barely got her number.”
The lie is thin. I can see it in the way his hands tremble, the way he shifts in the chair. I lean in, letting the weight of my presence fill the room.
“Listen to me carefully. The woman you met—the one you thought you could charm, take back to your hotel, treat like a game—is not yours to touch. She is not yours to look at. Do you understand?”
His mouth works soundlessly, terror replacing whatever bravado he brought with him. He nods, too fast.
“Good,” I say, voice dropping. “I want you to remember this. I want you to remember my face, my voice, the taste of your own blood when you so much as think about her again. You don’t speak to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even dream of her. Because if you do, I’ll know. You willnotsurvive it next time.”
Pavel steps forward, cracking his knuckles. The man’s eyes roll, a thin whimper escaping. I stand, straightening my jacket, giving him one last cold smile.
“Get him out of my city,” I tell Pavel. “If he’s seen again, I’ll deal with him myself.”
Pavel hauls the man to his feet, dragging him away. His pleas fade down the hallway, swallowed by the hum of the building. I dust off my hands, feeling the blood in my veins cool to a steady thrum. No one will touch Sera.
Back in my office, the night is deep and silent. Manhattan glows outside my window, lights smeared against the rain. I settle behind my desk, fingers drumming against the wood. Mymind turns, as always, to Sera. She’s become my favorite puzzle, more intriguing than any deal, any rival.
I’ve made it a habit, these past nights, to send her coded messages. Always from different anonymous accounts, always encrypted—just complex enough to catch her attention, just simple enough to make her believe the solution is hers alone.
The first time, I used a sequence she’d recognize from her work: an offshore routing number hidden in a string of digits, spliced with lines of code from her last project. The message was nothing but a test buried in the data. She solved it in less than an hour.
The thrill is sharper each time. I know she can’t resist. She’s too curious, too clever, too desperate to prove herself in a world that wants her invisible. She cracks my code, always late at night, sometimes in the early hours before sunrise. I imagine her hunched over the laptop, hair pulled back, eyes narrowed in concentration. I imagine the flush of satisfaction when she solves the puzzle. I imagine her pulse picking up, a shiver of fear when she realizes someone is watching her, someone knows exactly how her mind works.
Tonight, I send a new string: a cipher based on her own birthday, with a quote from a Russian poet buried inside. It will take her longer, I think. I want to watch her sweat, to make her wonder just how much I know.
Pavel knocks once, then enters. “He’s gone,” he reports. “You want the files wiped?”
I nod, attention already back on the screen. “No trace. If anyone asks, he never existed.”
Pavel lingers. “You want more pressure on the girl?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. She’s moving in the right direction. Let her chase the answers. Let her feel the thrill of being hunted, but not crushed. Not yet.”
He grins, understanding. “You want her scared, but not broken.”
I smile, slow and deliberate. “Exactly. The best prey always runs a little. Makes the catch that much sweeter.”
He leaves me alone with the city and my game. I open Sera’s latest email response—she always sends them to herself, little notes and reminders. Tonight, she’s left herself a message:Not paranoid. Someone’s playing with me. Find out who.
I reply in code:You’re almost there. Keep going.
The satisfaction is electric. I watch the rain trace patterns on the glass. Sera is clever, braver than she knows. Her mind is sharp, her fear, intoxicating. Every move she makes brings her deeper into my world.
Soon, she’ll understand just how small her world has become—and how utterly she belongs to me.
For now, I wait and I watch. She’ll come to me, one way or another. The game is just beginning.
***
