It's been a week since the incident with Melissa.
Everyone seems to mellow, yet the stares have increased, and their thoughts grow wary.
How is she doing fine, and Melissa isn't?
Were they not on the same project? Why did this happen?
I passed through the familiar corridors like a ghost. At my desk, the faint hum of computer fans and distant chatter greeted me. But it wasn't warmth; it was scrutiny. I could feel it crawling under my skin like ice.
My coworkers' courteous smiles felt forced, and their thoughts were loud.
A clamor of their jealousy, sympathy, and mockery tore at the edges of my focus. But it did not bother me.
I had long since learned how to keep my inner world silent, cold.
Ellie.
Her name burned in my mind the moment I stepped in today, seeking her out, I find her thoughts in a tangled mess of fear, blame, and simmering arrogance — the same arrogance that had allowed her to betray me months ago.
I had let the incident with Melissa settle in my mind, let my anger harden into a precise blade. Today was not about reacting; it was about executing.
HR called me into their office before I even settled down.
"Ms. Cruz," the HR manager said, her tone tight. "We need to discuss the data leak incident from yesterday. Some files were tampered with, which caused a critical client issue. You're under formal review."
I arched an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch. I could hear the low buzz of thoughts in the room, the subtle panic of the HR manager trying to cover herself, the curiosity of the secretary outside, and, faintly, the flutter of someone hiding dread. Ellie. She was somewhere in the wings, waiting for her moment to crucify me.
I kept calm. "I see," I said. My voice carried no panic. "Please, show me the details."
The manager flipped through a folder of printed screenshots, server logs, and emails. Every evidence pointed to… Ellie.
My internal grin stayed hidden behind a neutral mask. I had planted the breadcrumbs carefully: subtle manipulations of timestamps, a few doctored emails that appeared to originate from me but were routed through Ellie's credentials. It was perfection in its invisibility.
As the HR manager rattled on, I kept my mind clear, untouchable. I let them play their game, the whispers and nervous energy swelling. Then, with perfect timing, I sent the final piece.
A secure email from the system flagged Ellie as the last to access the sensitive files. Small, silent, deadly.
I walked back to my desk as HR's phone calls and hushed conversations began echoing through the office. I could feel the first tremor of panic in Ellie's mind. She had no idea.
Her thoughts spiraled: Why would anyone suspect me? I did what was asked. I… I didn't— The trail was precise; I let it tighten, widening her fear.
By noon, Ellie was summoned from her office. I watched her through the glass of the HR office. I tuned in my ability and concentrated on their chat.
With her eyes defiant and her chest high, she entered the room as if she owned it. I sensed her unraveling on the inside; the fear she attempted to hide was evident in every step and heartbeat.
In the hopes of cooperation, the manager began slowly. "Ellie, your login credentials have been linked to some anomalies in the work files. Can you explain this?"
Her deflection was instant. "It wasn't me! I don't know how—" Her first mistake.
I felt her panic rise. I reached out with the faintest whisper of psychic pull, brushing against the edges of her thoughts. I did not force her mind; I merely let her own fear amplify, like a mirror reflecting all her guilt. She had underestimated me.
The manager frowned. "Ellie… the logs clearly show your access. Security flagged multiple actions as suspicious."
Ellie's eyes darted around the room, seeking some unseen lifeline.
That's when I let her see me. Not entering the room, just through the reflective glass, standing in the shadows at my desk.
Her pulse jumped — faint, quick. I didn't move. I didn't need to.
Ellie faltered. Her mind betrayed her. She had been trained in corporate games, yes, but she had never faced someone like me, someone who could see the invisible undercurrents of thought and emotion. Her pride collapsed, leaving a hollow, panicked girl behind.
The HR manager sighed. "I'm afraid we have no choice. You are suspended until this is resolved, pending investigation."
Ellie crumpled inwardly, but externally she tried to maintain her mask. I watched her leave the office, shoulders tight, lips pressed into a brittle line.
The whispers followed her — questions, curiosity, speculation.
And I sat at my desk, observing it all.
****
Hours later, twilight settled over the city. I found her where I knew she would be — the café we had frequented after long nights of data entry, sharing burnt coffee and quiet sighs over spreadsheets and dreams. It had been a place of fragile friendship once.
Now, it would be the stage for her reckoning.
She was slouched in a corner, the fading sunlight catching the tears on her cheeks. The world had fallen away for her; only her shame and fear remained.
I moved in quietly, allowing my presence to first register in her peripheral vision, like an apparition slipping into the back of her mind.
Her head lifted. Her lips parted to speak, but she froze when her gaze caught mine. I could sense the panic washing over her, instant and raw.
"Elena…" she whispered, voice shaking.
I sat across from her without a word, letting her squirm under my scrutiny. I did not need to speak; my eyes, calm and calculating, conveyed every accusation she refused to admit.
Finally, she stammered, "I… I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't mean to what?" I asked softly. "Steal. Lie. Ruin lives. Or do you need me to remind you what you deserved?"
Her eyes widened. "Lena… I… please…"
I leaned forward, letting the silence press against her like a living weight. "Ellie, do you know how it feels to trust someone, only to be cut from the inside? How it feels to work with someone day and night, share your life in fragments, and have them turn all of it into a weapon against you?"
She flinched, as if the words physically struck her. "I… I—"
"You destroyed what little faith I had in friendship," I continued, my voice low, precise. "But I am not here to destroy you completely. I'm here to give you exactly what you asked for — exposure. Reckoning. Understanding."
Her hands shook. "I… I'm sorry…"
"Sorry isn't enough," I said, watching the panic spiral in her mind like a vortex.
I reached out, brushing lightly against her thoughts, teasing out her shame, the memories of every time she had manipulated others for gain.
She gasped, unable to shield herself. I could crush her, ruin her further, and she'd never even see it coming.
And yet I let her squirm. Let her mind replay every misstep, every lie. The flicker of the café lights made her eyes widen; shadows seemed to crawl along the walls.
The faint static in my head told me some people were watching, subtle and patient, feeding off the chaos I had orchestrated.
They were here, observing, waiting.
"So, tell me, Ellie," I whisper, leaning forward. "What did they offer you?"
Her eyes dart around as if seeking escape. "Money. They promised to clear my debts, help my sister. I didn't think they'd actually—" Her thoughts betrayed the lie.
"Of course, I knew. I just thought it wouldn't matter. Elena was always alone—no one would care."
Something in me breaks cleanly.
"Do you remember what you said that night?" I ask. "When I told you I was drunk? You said, 'That's for the best.'"
She went pale.
"I didn't understand then. But I do now."
Her cup rattles as her hands shake. "Please, Elena, I'm sorry. I've lived with this every day. Nightmares and guilt"
"Good," I whisper. "Keep living with them."
I stand slowly, my chair scraping the floor. She watches, confused, until I touch her forehead with two fingers.
Her body jerks.
The psychic link snaps open, raw and violent. I see through her memories—the alley, the fear, the bargain. The men in masks. The flash of the blade, her turning away.
And I push mine into hers: the cold, the pain, the taste of blood on concrete, the light that burned through my dying lungs. The voice that promised rebirth.
She screams, eyes wide and unfocused, clawing at the table as though to rip the visions from her mind. The café trembles, light fixtures flickering.
I withdraw, breathing hard, trembling myself. The power leaves me hollow, trembling on the edge of pity.
Ellie collapses against the table, sobbing. "What—what did you do?"
"Nothing," I say softly. "I just let you feel what I felt."
Her gaze lifts to me, wild. "You're not human anymore."
"Maybe not."
"I hope you understand now. This is what happens when you betray someone who's awake."
She looked up at me, hollow, broken. "Please… don't leave me like this."
I allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "I don't leave. I wait. And I watch. Remember that, Ellie."
I walked out into the chill of the evening, the city streets quiet around me.
Even though I had won, I was still a little uneasy; something seemed to be left undone, the whispers of something missing grazing the corners of my brain.
My phone buzzed sharply in my hand. I paused, my heart skipping a beat. The screen glowed: An unfamiliar number.
I answered, breath shallow, anticipation tightening my chest. "Who is speaking?"
"Elena… we need to talk. Now." I recognized the voice, it's Adrian.
His voice was calm but carried the urgency of fire. Not commanding, not angry, but magnetic, impossible to ignore.
I swallowed, the night suddenly feeling colder, darker, and full of unseen eyes. "Where do we meet?" I whispered.
And just like that, my world tilted again, pulling me toward a storm I hadn't yet fully understood.