I barely made it through the front door before the pain surged again. My left shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat, but I kept my steps light, quiet. Aunt Mabel's laughter floated faintly from the living room, followed by a man's deep chuckle. Thank God for her new boy toy, she hadn't checked on me in days. Not that I wanted her to.
I slipped into my room and shut the door gently. Locked it. Back pressed against the wood, I exhaled shakily. No footsteps followed. No knocks. Perfect.
I was invisible again, just how I liked it.
I peeled off the hoodie and tank top, biting back a hiss as the fabric tugged against the torn skin. The wound wasn't deep, but the shrapnel had sliced me good. Blood had dried around the edges, crusted and dark. I grabbed the emergency kit from under my bed, placing it on the desk beside my monitor. Tweezers. Antiseptic. Needle and thread. Everything was there.
I cleaned the wound in silence, the sting grounding me. Pain always did. My fingers worked fast, stitching through skin like cloth. Neat, efficient. Muscle memory.
But my mind was loud.
That figure from the footage, tall, broad, the way he moved, had me rattled. I didn't recognize his face, but my body did. My instincts screamed something I couldn't put into words.
A memory fluttered, blurry at the edges. The weight of a jacket draped over my shoulders. A hand at the small of my back. A voice, deep, steady, familiar.
Then gone.
I shook my head, closing the med kit and tossing it aside. No time for illusions. I powered up my system again, the hum of the processor filling the room like a heartbeat. The surveillance stills loaded slowly, compressed, corrupted.
I opened my own decryption program, one I built from scratch. Control didn't need to know. This was personal.
The image sharpened. Bit by bit. A faint jawline. The tilt of a head. A smirk?
My breath caught.
I knew him.
Every inch of my skin prickled. My chest tightened, not with fear, something else. That same heat I'd felt in the warehouse, right before everything went to hell.
Why was he there?
And why the hell did I want to see him again?
I dragged my fingers through my hair and leaned back in my chair. My shoulder ached, but I didn't care.
"If you're here…" I whispered, voice low, laced with grit, "why haven't you come for me?"
Silence.
My eyes narrowed.
I drifted off to sleep.