I trace the car on the map, noting its direction, speed, and proximity to Ellie’s location.
“Location?” I bark.
“Three blocks ahead,” Sergei replies, voice tight. “She’s on Main Street—heading into an industrial stretch.”
“Find her,” I command again, eyes fixed on the screen. “Don’t lose her.”
“Yes, Boss!” Sergei slams on the brakes briefly, then accelerates as he maneuvers the SUV down a parallel street, cutting off the sedan’s potential escape routes.
“Good,” I murmur. “Now let’s see who’s playing with fire.”
The SUV accelerates into the night.
As we close the distance on the black sedan, I feel the old pulse, the cold precision, the lethal calm I’ve carried for years, my psyche slipping back into that of a mindless killer.
It’s hard to shake off.
Ellie Carver.
Mine.
Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
She doesn’t even know me.
But I know her. Very well.
Her location is pinned on my phone at all times. I know where she is, what she’s doing, even how fast she walks. Every movement cataloged, every pattern noted.
This obsession began months ago.
I stumbled across her research paper online—her analysis of coded criminal speech. Her linguistic algorithm. It fascinated me. Not just academically. Something about the precision, the cleverness, the way she could see through patterns nobody else would even notice—it consumed me.
I told myself it was because she was Raelyn’s best friend. A loose end in my world. Something that could become a problem if ignored. But that wasn’t true.
Months later, I found myself attending one of her public presentations anonymously. Sitting in the back, listening to her voice, watching her hands move, the way her eyes tracked the audience.
Everything about her fascinated me.
Her soft sweater. Precise diction. Intelligent eyes.
Something snapped.
Since that moment, not a day has gone by that she hasn’t been in my mind. Not a day that I haven’t checked on her.
Never once have I reached out. Never.
Until now.
Tonight is about necessity. The people who dared to touch her will regret it.
And yet…I can’t ignore the thought creeping into the back of my mind.
What if someone else discovered her?
What if my rivals know I’ve been watching her?
They would assume—correctly—that she’s leverage.
