Back in the city, Mira didn't even stop to unpack.
She stood at the apartment's kitchen island with her sleeves rolled up and a cup of black coffee untouched beside her. The silence between her, Jace, and Cal buzzed like static.
"We need to go on the offensive," she said.
Cal lifted an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"No more waiting for them to make a move. We make the next one. Eli thinks he's still three steps ahead. Let's blindside him."
Jace leaned forward. "You're thinking trap?"
"I'm thinking bait."
She reached into her jacket and pulled out an old, cracked flip phone. Cal blinked. "Where did you even find that?"
"Drawer in my old place. He used to message me on it when he didn't want things traced."
Jace frowned. "You kept it?"
"I kept everything," she said, almost bitterly. "That version of me? She thought it might come back. That she might still want him."
She dropped the phone on the counter. "Now I want him to think she still exists."
---
Cal looped in a contact—an ex–cybercrime analyst named Nia who owed him a favor and had a notorious grudge against Eli's father's private security firm.
She arrived that afternoon, all long limbs, buzzed hair, and a resting smirk that screamed "try me."
"You want to lure a stalker into a digital trap?" she said, eyeing Mira. "I'm in."
Her fingers danced over the keyboard as Mira laid out her plan: send Eli a message from the old phone, cryptic enough to seem like a breadcrumb, personal enough to pique his obsession.
"It has to feel like I'm spiraling," Mira explained. "Like I'm vulnerable again."
Jace looked uneasy. "He'll take the bait if he thinks he can break you again."
"That's exactly why it'll work."
Nia set up a virtual environment—a ghost network designed to simulate Mira's old online presence: familiar login patterns, outdated passwords, predictable searches.
All of it fake.
All of it bait.
By midnight, they had it ready.
Mira typed the message herself.
> Eli—
I shouldn't be doing this.
But I can't stop thinking about the way things used to be.
You were right. I was always too quick to run.
I miss… us.
—M
------
She stared at it for a long moment before hitting send.
Cal's phone lit up an hour later.
Ping.
IP traced.
Device pinged from a downtown penthouse. Registered to a shell company—one that just so happened to be managed by Eli's former financial advisor.
Cal grinned. "Gotcha."
---
Three days later, Mira walked into the lion's den.
She wore her old self like a costume—muted lipstick, a pale blue dress she hadn't touched in over a year, and a trench coat Kelsey had once borrowed.
It wasn't just about fooling Eli.
It was about reclaiming every piece of her that he'd tried to own.
The doorman didn't stop her. Of course not. Her name was still in the building registry—another oversight Eli had assumed she wouldn't be brave enough to use.
The elevator ride to the 18th floor felt like a countdown.
When the doors opened, Eli was already waiting.
He hadn't changed much—still tailored, still smug—but his eyes flickered with something new: uncertainty.
"You came," he said.
Mira gave a small, measured smile. "You sounded like you missed me."
He motioned her in.
The apartment was immaculate—too immaculate. No photos. No clutter. Just a curated space that looked more like a showroom than a home.
"You look…" he began.
"Like your favorite ghost?"
He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I never stopped worrying," he said. "About you. About us."
"I could tell," she said dryly. "All the friendly surveillance."
Eli's jaw twitched. "You were never good at protecting yourself. Someone had to."
She stepped toward him, slow. Measured. Her hands were in the coat pockets, gripping a small audio transmitter Nia had planted just before she left.
"Is that why you sent Kelsey?" she asked. "To keep protecting me?"
His lips thinned.
"She volunteered."
"Did she?"
"She said you were falling apart. That Jace was a… distraction. That he was making you reckless."
"And you believed her?"
Eli's smile returned. "I wanted to."
Mira looked around. "Funny. For someone who wants me back, you sure don't keep any pictures of us."
He didn't answer.
She turned back to him. "What are you doing, Eli?"
A pause.
Then he said quietly, "What I always do. Fixing what you broke."
---
In a van three blocks away, Cal and Nia listened to every word.
"Got the whole transmission," Nia said. "Crystal clear."
Cal didn't smile.
Because Eli was just getting started.
---
"She was right about you, you know," Eli continued. "Kelsey. Said you were too naive to see how deep this all goes."
"How deep what goes?"
"You think this is about jealousy?" he said, stepping closer. "You think I just want to win you back? Mira, I've been trying to save you from something real."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
He laughed—low, bitter.
"You're caught in something way above your head. And you've been dragging Jace right into the middle of it."
"I left you," she said. "You lost control, so you're inventing conspiracies to get it back."
But he didn't flinch.
He leaned in, voice low. "Ask him about March 4th. Five years ago. Indianapolis. The explosion at the data vault."
Mira blinked.
Eli smirked. "See? He didn't tell you. Because he was there. Inside."
Her heart skipped.
"You're lying."
"Am I?"
---
Back in the van, Cal swore.
Nia looked confused. "What the hell happened on March 4th?"
"Classified," Cal muttered. "But… yeah. He's not lying."
---
Mira stumbled back, pulse pounding.
"He saved me," she whispered. "He wouldn't—"
"He disappeared for years," Eli said. "Ever ask where he went?"
"I know where he went."
"You think you do. But the man you're sleeping next to? He's got more secrets than I ever did."
Eli stepped closer, voice low and sharp. "And the biggest one? He wasn't just at that explosion. He caused it."