Sadie
Morning came too quickly.
I barely slept — not because anything happened, but because nothing did. The night stayed silent, exactly like he'd said it would.No knocks.No shadows.No disturbances.
That might've been comforting… if it didn't make me wonder why it was so quiet.
What had been prevented?Or who?
I pushed the thought aside, got dressed, and headed out the door with my bag slung over my shoulder. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the world wet and reflective.
As I reached the parking lot, I saw it:
A man standing near the corner of the building — not close enough to be suspicious, but not far enough to be innocent.
Dark coat.Hands in pockets.Head angled just enough to watch the entrance.
He didn't move when I stepped outside.Didn't approach.Just stood there.
Observing.
A prickle crept up the back of my neck.
Was he one of Zane's?Or someone else?
I walked quickly, pretending not to notice. The air felt thin, like I was moving through a space I wasn't supposed to disturb.
My phone vibrated once.
I didn't check it until I was inside the bus.
Unknown Number:You walked out the door at 7:12.Earlier than usual.
I swallowed.Not a threat.Not a question.
Just a fact.
A detail only someone paying close attention would know.
I typed back:
Me:Were you here?
The typing dots appeared almost instantly.
Then his reply:
No.A pause.But someone was.
My stomach tightened.
Me:Should I be worried?
Not if they're mine.
That didn't answer the question.Or maybe it did — in a way I didn't want to think about too hard.
Arriving at Work
The office lobby felt different today.
Not tense — alert.
Security guards stood straighter. Employees spoke in hushed tones. Even the receptionist kept glancing toward the elevators as if expecting something to happen.
June met me near the coffee station.
"You okay?" she whispered.
"Yeah," I lied. "Just tired."
She bit her lip. "James has been… off this morning. He's had three calls from upper management already."
Upper management.Or someone above them.
I didn't ask questions. I didn't have to.
I barely reached my desk before the intercom clicked.
"Intern Robertson," James's voice said, clipped and slightly strained. "My office. Immediately."
I felt every eye lift toward me.
I walked in, closed the door behind me, and stood in front of his desk.
He didn't look at me right away.He was staring down at his tablet, jaw tight, shoulders stiff.
Finally, he spoke — low, controlled.
"Did you know," he said slowly, "that a full audit was initiated on our department this morning?"
I blinked. "What? Why?"
He looked up, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch.
"That's what I'd like to know," he murmured.
I shifted uneasily. "What does that have to do with me?"
"Everything, apparently."
The words landed like a stone.
James rubbed a hand over his brow — a rare sign of stress from someone normally carved out of discipline.
"Miss Robertson," he said, voice quiet but razor-sharp, "this audit was ordered by someone whose name I've only seen attached to federal-level directives."
My heartbeat thudded painfully.
"You're not in trouble," he added quickly. "This isn't about you personally."
A pause.
"Not directly."
I swallowed. "Then why—"
"Because whoever is controlling the narrative surrounding you," he said carefully, "has the power to shift an entire department just to adjust the lighting around your presence."
Lighting.Not focus.Not attention.
Lighting.
Like I was a subject on a stage.
I couldn't breathe for a moment.
"Do you understand what that means?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"It means," he said, leaning forward, "that someone wants every angle around you… visible. Clear. Managed."
Managed.
A chill slid through me.
"But I need to know," he continued, voice measured, "whether you have any idea who might be orchestrating this."
My throat went dry.
I could lie.Say I didn't know.Say I was confused.Say I was as surprised as he was.
But James watched me with sharp, assessing eyes — the kind that saw reactions, not words.
So I said nothing.
Which was an answer on its own.
His jaw tightened.
"You don't have to tell me," he said quietly. "But you need to understand something."
I lifted my gaze.
"Your life is intersecting with power that doesn't move normally," he murmured. "It shifts quietly. Subtly. Invisibly. And when power moves like that… it doesn't do so for many people."
Silence settled like snowfall.
Soft.Cold.Inevitable.
He sat back, the tension easing only a fraction.
"For your sake," he said, "I hope you know what you're becoming part of."
I walked back to my cubicle on unsteady legs, my mind buzzing with questions I didn't know how to ask.
What had Zane done?Why was he pushing so hard?What did he want me protected from?Or protected for?
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:James won't trouble you anymore.
I stared at the message, heart pounding.
Then another:
Things needed to shift.Now they have.
A third:
You're safe.Focus on your work.
I locked my phone with shaking hands.
Safe.
Was that what this was?
Because it didn't feel like safety.
It felt like the walls around me had moved — not closing in, not trapping me — but changing shape while I wasn't looking.
And somewhere outside of it, he was watching.
Not threatening.Not comforting.
Just watching.
Like I was a piece he'd placed on a board only he understood.