The candle wax was still soft on the table. Claire's legs were tangled with Nina's beneath the thin blanket, their bodies flush from a night that neither of them wanted to explain, even to themselves.
Nina was already dozing again, her bare back rising with each slow breath, her lips slightly parted.
Claire leaned in and kissed her shoulder, then carefully slipped out from the cocoon of warmth. Her robe slid around her body like a confession. She padded barefoot to the window.
She didn't know why she looked across the street.
But when she did, the curtain in Daniel's bedroom dropped just a beat too quickly.
Her stomach tightened.
She'd suspected.
Now she knew.
Daniel sat in his dark room, the blue light of his monitor glowing like an altar. He rewound the footage.
He had saved it. All of it.
Claire's mouth on Nina's neck. Claire moaning softly against her breast. Claire's head thrown back in abandon.
It wasn't lust anymore. Not just.
It was possession.
She had been his.
Maybe not in reality. But in his mind, she was something owed.
And Nina? A threat. A temptation. A disruption.
He clicked open another tab—one of the neighborhood surveillance apps his friends used for idle gossip and safety alerts. A way to monitor porch pirates and coyote sightings.
Daniel had turned it into a map of weaknesses.
He clicked on Claire's address.
He clicked "Add device."
Across the neighborhood, Veronica stirred her tea with a bone-handled spoon.
Gloria sat on the couch, legs crossed, arms folded, the same expression she used when catching her son with porn magazines as a teenager.
"You think Daniel's going to get violent?" Gloria asked.
Veronica looked up. "He's already violating. Violence is a natural progression."
"And Claire?"
"She'll break. Eventually. Everyone does."
Gloria arched an eyebrow. "You sound almost disappointed."
Veronica smiled faintly. "Not at all. I like watching beautiful things collapse. But only when they're old enough to know what they're losing."
She sipped the tea. "And Claire is just old enough."
Claire drove to Nina's place that evening.
She couldn't stay in her own house. Not with the curtains open. Not with the silent confirmation that Daniel had been watching.
She didn't tell Nina. Not yet.
She just climbed into bed beside her and whispered, "Can I stay the night?"
Nina didn't ask questions. She just reached for her.
The sex was different now—slow, deliberate, not desperate but hungry in a new way.
Claire pressed her mouth to Nina's navel, kissed lower, lingered there. Nina gasped and curled toward her fingers, arching as if trying to rise from the past that still clung to both of them.
"God, Claire," Nina whispered, "You're going to ruin me."
Claire looked up. "I want to."
They laughed. But the tension in Claire's chest didn't release.
Daniel installed the motion sensor camera behind the lilac bush next to Claire's kitchen window.
It had a 160-degree view and could upload directly to his cloud.
He'd tested it with a flashlight. The night vision was perfect.
He told himself it was for her safety.
He told himself she should have known better.
He clicked "Record."
Then he waited.
Back at Nina's, Claire's phone buzzed.
An alert.
From her smart doorbell system.
"Motion detected: backyard."
Claire sat up sharply.
"What is it?" Nina asked, eyes heavy with sleep.
Claire's face had gone pale.
She didn't answer.
She just got out of bed, reached for her keys, and whispered, "I have to go."
Veronica opened her front door to a knock.
It was late.
She didn't expect visitors.
But Gloria stood there, makeup wiped off, no wine glass, no cigarette — just a strange stillness.
"He's installed cameras," Gloria said.
Veronica blinked. "Daniel?"
Gloria nodded. "He's lost control."
Veronica didn't sigh. Didn't frown. Just stepped aside.
Gloria walked in.
The door shut behind her.
Claire approached her house slowly.
Every shadow looked too tall. Every bush looked like it was breathing.
The air was thick with being watched.
She checked her phone again. The motion alert had disappeared. But her unease didn't.
She stepped onto the porch and suddenly froze.
Something gleamed under her windowsill. Metal.
She crouched. A camera.
Tiny. Blinking.
Not hers.
She stared at it.
And for a moment, something inside her shattered quietly.
Not because Daniel had done it.
But because she hadn't seen it coming.
She turned, shaking, and walked back to her car.
Then she drove.
Not to Nina's.
Not home.
But to Veronica's.
Veronica opened the door without surprise.
Claire looked wild. Disheveled. Raw.
"I need to talk," Claire said.
Veronica stepped aside.
"Of course you do."