The line goes quiet for so long that Liev and I exchange a look.
“Finn?”
“Seed phrase or numbers?” he asks tightly.
“I don’t know what a seed phrase is. I’m looking for a string of numbers.”
“Yeah… I found something like that.”
“Is there a problem?” Liev’s voice is low.
“No, I deleted it, but I can recover it.”
My brows snap together. “Why would you delete it? Where did you find it?”
“There was a file AirDropped to your phone from another device a little over two years ago. He must have had access at some point and hid the file in Utilities and set it to invisible.” He clears his throat, uncomfortable. “It was a photo.”
“Of the number?”
Finn doesn’t answer.
“Finn, what the fuck aren’t you telling us?”
“It was a photo of you with a piece of paper on your stomach with the numbers written across it and that piece of shit leaning over you.”
I shake my head with a frown at Liev. “I don’t remember?—”
“You were asleep in your bed,” Finn continues, voice furious.
I glance down at my bare torso, and the bottom drops out of my stomach. “I was naked, wasn’t I?”
Liev sits up fast, a snarl ripping out of him.
“I deleted it right away,” Finn hurries to assure me. “I didn’t know you were looking for anything other than the spyware or tampering—would have been helpful if someone mentioned it—but I figured you didn’t want it since he was in it. And it was a weird place to put it.”
My friend seeing me naked is the least of my problems right now. “But you can recover the photo, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Recover it,” Liev orders, already sliding out of bed. The mattress dips, cold air rushing into the warm space he leaves behind.
“I’m on it. Give me ten minutes.”
“Five,” Liev corrects.
Finn hangs up without argument.
Silence stretches between us.
When the phone buzzes again, Liev snatches it, scans the screen, and goes completely still. He hands it to me without a word.
There I am… sprawled naked, asleep across my old mattress in the condo. A piece of paper is centered on my stomach, numbers scrawled in black marker. Aaron’s head and shoulderare visible in the frame, selfie-style, his face smug even in profile as I lie oblivious next to him.
I pull in a slow, deliberate breath, fighting the sick crawl under my skin. “Well,” I say evenly, “that’s disturbing.”
To put it mildly.
Liev has gone dangerously quiet. The nightstand creaks under the force of his grip.
