The stillness after the walk with Rosalie hadn't settled yet. Her scent still clung to him, faint as it was, roses and something old, like the whisper of a forgotten waltz. She had stirred something in him. Something warm. Something dangerous.
But the moment Aiden flicked on his laptop, that warmth bled away.
The old server blinked to life like a ghost from a past he'd tried to bury. One he knew better than to trust.
[User: ST1X]
Online.
He stared.
No. That profile had been dead since Chicago. Since the system they'd built together fell apart. Since Sticks stopped replying.
And then it came:
ST1X: yo
You there?
Aiden's fingers hovered over the keys, but didn't type. He didn't like it. The wording. The emptiness behind it.
Another ping:
ST1X:
It's been a long time
Are you still in the game?
No nickname. No jab about "Shade." No hint that the person on the other end knew him.
Aiden minimized the chat and launched his tracking tools. It was clumsy, but fast—the kind of tech someone would use if they were desperate, not careful. The connection traced through two VPNs, a cheap proxy service, and landed…
Texas.
A public access point in Amarillo. Not a place Sticks had ever set foot in. A place Connie might end up if she were on the run.
His jaw clenched. He should've known.
ST1X:
Don't ignore me, I know you're out there
Don't make me find you the hard way
Aiden didn't respond. He let the cursor blink in silence. His breath was low and slow, steady as he shut the lid of his laptop and leaned back in the chair.
She was far away. Texas wasn't here.
But the message was clear.
Connie was hunting again. And she remembered enough to know where to look. What bait to use?
He stood up and looked out the window into the shadowed trees surrounding Forks. The town was quiet, blanketed in fog and old pine. Nobody here knew about Sticks. About the blood. About Connie.
They thought Aiden was just some kid from Chicago.
But that past was coming.
And now, it knew his name again.