“It went through three security checks,” Yuri says. “Anything fake would’ve been blocked. This wasn’t.”
He exhales once. “It didn’t slow down. It wasn’t redirected. It was cleared and sent through like it belonged there.”
“By whom?” I ask.
“Not a name,” he says. “A category.”
I wait.
“Administrative clearance,” Yuri finishes. “The kind elders use when they don’t want questions later.”
My jaw tightens. “So this wasn’t someone being clever.”
“No,” he says. “This was someone being official.”
“Timing?” I say.
“Intentional,” Yuri answers. “The message was released exactly when your presence would complicate things.”
“They wanted me compliant.”
“They wanted you absent,” he corrects. “Different thing.”
I exhale once through my nose. “Can you trace who signed off?”
There’s a pause. I hear keys. Then Yuri stops.
“I could,” he says slowly. “But once I do, I light myself up too.”
“Understood.”
“You should know something else,” he adds.
“Say it.”
“The same clearance window opened twice today,” Yuri says. “Only one was used.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they practiced before they pulled you,” he says. “This wasn’t improvisation.”
I glance at Ana, still asleep, unaware of how neatly she’s being handled.
“They’re not moving the board yet,” Yuri says. “But when they do, it won’t be loud.”
He ends the call.
Ana stirs, rolls onto her side, then pushes herself up on one elbow and rubs at her eyes. Her hair falls into her face, loose and dark, still heavy with sleep. She looks at me by the window, then at the untouched bed.
“You sat there all night,” she says.
I don’t answer. Her gaze drifts to the nightstand. Both phones are there, hers and the burner I gave her. She straightens. “What are you doing with my phones?”
“Checking,” I say, keeping it simple. No use telling her lies.
Her mouth tightens. “You don’t trust me.”
“I do,” I reply. “I don’t trust who’s reaching for you.”
