~^XANDER^~
The room was cloaked in darkness when I woke, my senses sharpening before my eyes even opened. 5:00 AM. My internal clock had never needed an alarm. Discipline was stitched into my bones, the product of years trained to operate in shadows.
I rose without a sound, my bare feet touching the cool floor like a silent ritual. The air was crisp, heavy with that pre-dawn stillness. I stepped outside into the quiet street where the world still slept, the early Virginia morning wrapped in mist and calm.
The solitude suited me. Each step on the gravel street echoed faintly in my mind like a heartbeat. I wasn't walking for peace or clarity, I didn't believe in those things. I was walking because movement kept the darker thoughts at bay, if only for a while.
For an hour, I traced the edges of the neighborhood. No cars. No people. Just the whisper of wind stirring the trees, and the subtle color bleeding into the horizon. By the time I returned, dawn had kissed the rooftops with streaks of rose and ember. I paused. for sentiment but a slight appreciation for details that mattered.
Inside, the house welcomed me with silence. A temporary haven. Functional. Unattached.
I moved to the kitchen, hands instinctively reaching for coffee. My fingers brushed an empty cabinet. No coffee. A forgotten inconvenience. I made a mental note to drive down to the groceries at 9:00. Espresso machine, Essentials, Nothing extra.,Nothing personal.
.
With time to spare, I sat at the desk and opened my laptop. The machine booted quickly. I began crafting lives, one as a tech consultant on Fiverr. The other, a freelance writer on Upwork. Different names. Different specialties. Different masks. Every line in my bio was calculated , polished enough to pass scrutiny.
By the time 9:00 struck, I was already out the door again, moving with intent.
The grocery store was ordinary. Bright lights. Sterile shelves. A place designed for routine lives. I pushed a cart through the aisles, gathering what I needed nothing more. When I reached the coffee section, I scanned the rows, searching for something strong, unpretentious.
Then my burner phone vibrated in my pocket. No caller ID.
I grabbed a box of dark roast and answered.
"Hello?" My voice was low, barely audible.
"Ты один?" the voice on the other end asked. Are you alone?
I turned my back to the aisle, lowering my tone further. "Да. Говори." Yes. Speak.
As the voice continued, feeding me details too sensitive to ignore, I noticed movement in my periphery — a girl. early twenties. Emerald eyes, Observant.
She was holding something in her hand — my wallet.
~^RYEN^~
The grocery store was colder than I remembered. Or maybe I was just annoyed. Carren had promised to wait for me while I used the ladies, but he'd vanished the moment I came out of the restroom. Typical.
I wandered through the aisles, irritation simmering beneath my skin. I wasn't about to yell for him. Then, just past the coffee section, I spotted a guy — tall, dark clothes, focused on a call. I was halfway to asking if he'd seen Carren when I stepped on something.
A wallet.
A sleek, obviously expensive leather wallet.
I knelt and picked it up. Inside — cash, a card, no license. It was strange, how heavy it felt in my hand.
I looked up again at the man on the phone. His voice wasn't English. It was a guttural rumble, German, maybe?
My fingers itched. My water bill was two weeks overdue. The money inside that wallet could solve a lot of temporary problems. He wouldn't even notice the cash missing, would he?
Although, the thought of stealing from a stranger made my stomach twist. And I was smarter than this.
When he hung up and turned, our eyes locked and I felt pinned, like he could see every thought I'd had in the last ten seconds. His silver- grey gaze was dark, unreadable, but sharp.
I swallowed, extended the wallet. "I think this fell out of your pocket," I said, forcing a half-smile. "I was going to return it."
He took it without a word, checking its contents. No thank you. Just that cold assessment.
Whatever. I turned and left.
Moments later, I found Carren near the frozen section, casually flirting with a blonde in high-waisted jeans. I called his name, loudly enough to make the girl walk off.
"Where the hell did you go?" I asked, hands on hips.
He shrugged. "I didn't leave you. You took forever."
"You always say that." I was gone for less than three minutes.
"Come on, babe, if you were worried, you should have called" he placed a hand on my shoulder.
"What the hell are you saying, I was going for not longer than two minute and you-" I was trying to keep my tone at bay while letting him see my annoyance, when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a kiss. An unspoken apology or a 'romantic' way of getting me to shut up, couldn't tell which.
He smirked and took my hand. "Let's finish shopping."
I bit back a sigh and followed him through the store. We moved in rhythm, though our connection felt more forced than fluid these days.
While Carren emptied what we both for check- out on the counter, my eyes roamed lazily around the cubicle and settled on a vaguely familiar figure and there he was, scanning his items with military precision. When our eyes met again, just for a second and I looked away quickly. One thing I don't like is accidentally glancing at a stranger and having to meet gazes at the same time. They either think you're creepy or you're admiring them.
Carren was rambling about needing snacks for his Friday game night, but I barely heard him. When we walked out and I spotted the same man loading groceries into a black SUV.
Still, the moment passed. I dismissed the flicker of intrigue, labeling him: rude, and shitty, yeah he was handsome if you liked men who looked like they were carved from stone, mighty tall, stoic with dark, sharp features,. Definitely not my problem.
"Ready to head home?" Carren asked, wrapping an arm around my waist.
"Yeah," I replied, sliding into the passenger seat.
^-Xander^-
Back at the apartment, I unpacked methodically, the silence a comfort. Every item had its place — predictable, ordered. Unlike the girl from the store.
She'd hesitated. Fingered the wallet like it might burn her. She hadn't taken the money, but she had considered it. I could tell. People think their thoughts are private, but I'd learned to read intent long before I learned to fake sincerity.
After a simple breakfast, I returned to my laptop. The proposal was waiting — a high-level encryption challenge from a mid-sized tech company trying to outsmart their competitors. It was exactly the kind of puzzle that made hours disappear.
I messaged the client, negotiated terms, and got to work.
Lines of code scrolled down my screen, patterns emerging, possibilities forming. The silence around me sharpened my focus.
For now, I was a Freelancer, Tech genius and Ghost writer
And I was good at disappearing in plain sight.
But even as I typed, I kept seeing her fingers curled around that wallet.
Her hesitation. Her eyes. Curious. Too curious.
And curiosity, I knew from experience, was a dangerous thing to have around me.