The motel clerk didn’t look up. “Cash or card?”Derick slid a few bills across the counter. “Cash.”The clerk counted slowly. “Room twelve. No refunds.”Derick nodded. Took the key. No small talk. No questions. Room twelve smelled like bleach and old smoke. The TV buzzed faintly even though it was off, like it remembered noise.Derick shut the door behind him and stood still, listening. Nothing followed him in. He set his bag down and sat on the edge of the bed. Springs creaked. He didn’t lie down.His phone buzzed. Unknown number again. He answered. “Yes?”“You left faster than I thought,” Caleb said.Derick closed his eyes. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”Derick smiled faintly. “Are you?”A pause. “That’s not fair.”“Neither was sitting on my couch,” Derick replied.Caleb exhaled. “Maya’s… shaken.”Derick didn’t respond. “She didn’t think you’d just disappear,” Caleb continued. “She thought you’d yell. Beg. Something.”“And?”“And you didn’t,

The house hadn’t changed. That was the first thing Ethan noticed. Same porch light flickering like it always had.Same wind chimes Maya insisted were “calming.” Same white curtains that never quite closed all the way. Comfort preserved. Like nothing had happened.Ethan sat in the parked car across the street, engine off, hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. The encrypted phone lay face-up beside him, dark and silent. Observe. Do not engage.He watched Maya move through the living room, phone pressed to her ear, pacing in slow circles. “No, Victor, I don’t care how it looks,” she said, voice faint through the glass. “I want to know where he is.”She stopped pacing. Listened. Scoffed. “Don’t tell me to be patient. He doesn’t just disappear.”Ethan tilted his head slightly. She still believed she mattered enough to be chased. Caleb appeared from the hallway, rubbing his face.He took the phone from her hand.“Victor,” Caleb said, lowering his voice, “look… if he’s gone, isn’t that

The file arrived at 4:03 a.m. Ethan was still under the overpass, engine off, city noise muffled by concrete and distance. The encrypted phone vibrated once, no warning, no urgency.He opened it. Identity Packet — ACTIVEA face appeared first. Not his. Mid-thirties. Clean haircut. Forgettable in a way that felt intentional. The kind of face people remembered only after it left the room, and even then, vaguely.Name: Adrian ColeOccupation: Independent logistics consultantHistory: Plausible. Boring. Verified.Digital Footprint: Eight years. Clean.Social Access Level: ModerateFlags: NoneEthan scrolled. Bank accounts. Rental history. Travel stamps. A handful of photos at networking events. Smiling beside people who didn’t matter. “Adrian Cole,” Ethan murmured.The phone buzzed. Unknown: Say it.Ethan didn’t hesitate. “I’m Adrian Cole.”Good.Tonight, you’ll attend a gathering, Invitation already sent.Ethan frowned. To who?The reply came with a location pin. His old world. Maya’s wo

Lucas liked to talk when he felt safe. Ethan had learned that years ago, back when Lucas still borrowed money and promised repayment with dramatic sincerity.Now, safety looked different. It was confidence inflated by victory, by the belief that Derick Hale was dead and buried. That belief made men sloppy.The feed played silently on the wall. Lucas paced his apartment, phone pressed to his ear, drink in his other hand. His laughter was loud, careless.The kind that came from thinking the storm had passed. Jonas watched Ethan from the corner of his eye. “We can mute the audio if you want.”“No,” Ethan said.Jonas nodded to a technician. Sound filled the room. “…telling you, man, it’s clean,” Lucas said. “No body, no mess. Guy just cracked. Happens all the time.”Ethan’s jaw tightened, just a fraction. Jonas leaned closer. “You recognize the voice on the other end?”Ethan listened. The voice was distorted, filtered, but the cadence was sharp. Professional. Curious. “No,” Ethan said. “B