Mira's POV
For a moment, my whole world stopped. The hum of the city outside the window, the faint scent of my perfume in the air, the very beat of my heart—it all just ceased. There was only the paper on the floor and the scarf on the desk, screaming a truth I'd spent years running from.
How the fuck did he find me?
The question echoed, sharp and panicked, in the frozen silence of my mind. I had been so careful. I'd covered my tracks, built a new identity from scratch, buried my real identity century so deep that even I sometimes forgot her.
And now, he knew where I lived. This apartment, in one of the most secure buildings in the country. If he knew this, he knew everything. He'd know where I worked.
Of course he would. A cold, logical part of my brain cut through the panic. He was always a detective. No. Correction. A stalker. The best kind, because everyone believed his badge was a symbol of honor.
