Page 4 of Knight

But I’m busy. I have to get back to work. Back to coding. Back to looking through all the things people think they can hide in their computer files. The digital world doesn’t sleep, and neither do I. Not when there are systems to break and secrets to uncover.

Just me and my computers. No distractions. No people. No mistakes.

Perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

Evangeline

Tiredness burns my eyes,but I can’t sleep. Instead, I’m sitting in front of my laptop, trying to crack the password on Michael’s email again.

I’ve gone through every possible variation I can think of. Important dates, favorite books, obscure gaming references. I even tried his tenth grade computer science teacher’s name. Now, after six weeks of trying, I’m running out of ideas.

Access denied.

Again.

Another cold cup of tea joins the collection on my coffee table as I straighten my spine, rolling my head from side to side to ease the ache in my neck. The missing persons forum is already open in another tab, the cursor blinking in the message box where you can leave notes for loved ones. I start to type something simple, like 'I miss you,' but delete it immediately. It feels too real. Too final.

The police have done their part, but the investigation is practically dead in the water now. They say they’ve exhausted all leads, but what does that even mean?

All I have are the crumbs of his life—the tiny moments, the misplaced messages, and the things he left behind.

My fingers are still hovering over the keyboard when a new notification pops up on my phone screen.

Knight: Go to sleep.

I smile at the message, warmth spreading through me despite my exhaustion. Three weeks of late-night conversations, of him being the only person who believes Michael didn't just walk away, and somehow Knight has become my anchor in all this chaos.

Eva: Says the guy who sent me cat memes at 4 A.M. yesterday.

Knight: Those were tactical cat memes. Completely different. Part of my comprehensive strategy to make you smile. Like last week's emergency kitten deployment during your password cracking crisis.

Eva: Is that what we're calling your early morning hobby now?

Knight: Better than your early morning hobby. You're still trying to hack Michael's work email, aren't you?

I freeze, a guilty flush creeping up my neck. He knows me too well now.

Eva: Maybe.

I minimize the password attempt window, but my mind won't let go of the possibility. If I could just get into his email, maybe I'd find something—a threat, a warning, anything toexplain his disappearance. It's stupid and reckless, but I can't just sit here doing nothing.

Knight: Eva. We talked about this. You'll get his account locked. Remember the phone incident?

Eva: I know. I just ... I hate feeling useless.

The gentle reminder of last week's near-disaster makes me smile despite myself. He'd talked me through a panic attack when I thought I'd permanently locked Michael's phone.

Knight: You're not useless. You're tired. And making rookie mistakes because of it.

He's right. Of course he's right. The same way he was right about the police not taking Michael's disappearance seriously enough. About the gaps in the official investigation. About me needing to eat something besides tea and anxiety.

It’s like he's become the steady voice in the chaos of my life, reminding me of all the things I’m forgetting. And that scares me more than anything.

Eva: Find anything new?

Knight: Still working through employee files. Cross-referencing badge access times with security protocols. Someone is definitely trying to hide something, but they’re not as clever as they think.

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