Message Received:
We need to talk. Urgent. Don't tell anyone I reached out.
— Liu
Liu? Now?
Three years of silence, and then this.
He had been a fragile man — trembling hands, hollow eyes from too many sleepless nights. I still remembered how he whispered about "truths that destroy careers." When he vanished, I assumed he had finally found peace.
But now… this?
I stared at the message.
Urgent?
What was the matter? Was he safe? Where was he?
Me: Where are you?
Received. Seen. Typing.
The three dots danced, then stopped. My stomach tightened. He deleted whatever he was going to say. The dots returned. Stopped. Again. Stopped.
And then—nothing.
Silence, from a man who had already vanished once. How interesting.
My gaze fell to the wine glass in my hand. Somehow, it brought me back to the touch of Leo's hands on my waist, the quiet defiance in his eyes. Heat crept up my neck before I could stop it.
I sighed, set the glass down, and went to prepare for the night.
The water steamed exactly how I liked it. After my skincare, I slipped into my nightgown and beneath the duvet, trying not to think about ghosts who texted after years of silence.
⸻
By the time I reached the office, the corridors were empty, fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. I went straight to my desk, accessed the encrypted archive, and waited through layer after layer of verification.
Client: Liu Zhenhua
Case Type: Ethical trauma, high-risk memory exposure
Confidentiality Level: Sealed
"They'll erase me," he had whispered once, eyes darting to corners no one else could see. "Truth isn't what it used to be, Elara. It's a weapon."
I had dismissed it as paranoia. Now, I wasn't so sure.
A knock snapped me back.
"Morning," Maya said, stepping in with two coffees. "You're early. Or you never left."
"Just catching up," I said.
She handed me a cup. "So, are we pretending yesterday didn't happen, or should I book you under 'Therapist crosses boundaries with billionaire client'?"
I glared. She smirked.
"Fine," she said, switching gears. "You've got three sessions, one call with the museum board, and… oh! IT flagged something. Unauthorized access on your system at 7 a.m. They've already isolated the node."
My breath stilled. "Seven a.m.?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Exactly when I opened Liu's file.
"Forward the report," I said sharply.
"Elara…" she began, her tone softening. "Did you—"
"I said now, please."
She obeyed.
⸻
The rest of the day was an act. I forced every smile, weighed every word, all while tension coiled tight inside me.
By mid-afternoon, I dismissed a client early, locked the door, and opened my encrypted messenger.
Still no reply from Liu.
Then—
Ping.
Attachment: Image
I opened it.
My breath hitched.
A photo of my own building, taken from across the street. Timestamp: 8:57 a.m.
Another message followed:
They're inside. Don't trust your system.
He's already part of it.
He? Wait—he? My chest tightened. Only one person came to mind. Leo.
The day slipped by faster than I expected. Evening came. The office emptied. Maya was gone.
I brushed my fingers along the table where Leo had stood the day before.
Don't trust your system.
I turned to my computer, typing through layers of firewalls until I reached the hidden log — one only Maya and I knew existed.
There it was. An external key.
PROMETHEUS.
The name hit me. Not just mythology — Leo's old cybersecurity project. His digital signature.
Was he in my system? Why?
Before I could think further, my phone buzzed.
Incoming Call: Leo Thorne
Speak of the devil.
I stared at the screen. Let it ring twice. Three times. Then answered.
"Elara," his voice came — steady, velvet, dangerous. "Don't hang up."
"What did you do?" I asked calmly. No, I wasn't calm.
"I should ask you that," he said. "Someone accessed my private archives from your network this morning. I traced it back to you."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" His tone darkened. "Or are we both caught inside a trap neither of us built?"
A pulse of static cracked through the line. When it cleared, his voice was softer.
"Meet me. One hour. The old pier."
I almost laughed. "You think I'd walk into another of your games?"
"This isn't a game, Elara." A pause. "Liu's alive, isn't he?"
My breath faltered.
"How do you—"
The line went dead.
⸻
The night air bit cold against my skin as I stepped out of the car. The fog rolled low over the pier, curling around the wooden rails.
My footsteps echoed against wet wood. The fog thickened.
Then I saw him walking toward me.
"If this is another manipulation," I said as he neared, "I'll end it here."
He stepped closer. "Then end it, if you can."
End it if I can? My hand curled into a fist.
"Liu contacted you," he said.
"Yes."
"And someone breached your system. Codename: Prometheus."
"Your code," I snapped. "Your fingerprints."
He shook his head. "If you saw that name, it means they've already reached us. We're too late."
"Too late for what?"
His gaze locked on mine — dark, knowing.
"For pretending this was ever just about us."
Before I could respond, a gunshot split the air.
Wood splintered before us. Another shot followed.
Leo lunged, pulling me down behind the railing. Gunpowder filled the air, sharp and metallic.
"Who are they?" I hissed.
His grip tightened around my hand.
"Whoever they are," his voice was low and fierce, "they don't want to expose us—"
He glanced toward the fog, eyes hard.
"They want us erased."
My eyes widened. Expose us? Erase us? Who are they? How did they find us? Is Leo one of them?
I could hear footsteps approaching through the fog, each one echoing in the silence.
Leo's breathing was rough beside me—uneven, strained. The faint glow from a distant streetlamp cut across his face; shadows flickered over the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near his temple I had once traced with my fingers.
I hated that I still remembered how he felt that night.
"We have to move," he whispered. "Now."
"Move where?" I hissed. "They're everywhere—"
Another shot cracked through the fog. The railing above us burst apart, and shards stung my cheek.