Page 6 of Knight

Knight: You’re right. Stupid idea.

I hesitate. A month ago, this would have seemed insane. But Knight isn’t a stranger anymore. Is he? He's proven himself over and over—tracking Michael's gaming activity, finding discrepancies in security logs, talking me through countless late-night panic attacks. He's the one steady thing in my chaotic search for answers.

Eva: No. I’d like that. It beats staring at the ‘password incorrect’ message.

Knight: Bring your laptop. And your questionable taste in documentaries.

Eva: My documentary choices are excellent.

Knight: You watched ‘Killer Clowns of Kansas’ last night.

Eva: That was research!

Knight: For what possible reason?

Eva: Are you stalking my Netflix account?

Knight: Hacker.

Eva: Fair point.

He sends an address. Upper east side. A gated community with the kind of security you'd expect from someone who makes their living in digital secrets. I can almost hear the hum ofhis computers, picture the setup he's described during our late-night talks.

Eva: Your neighbors won’t mind?

Knight: Don’t have any. No one here cares about your documentary addiction.

Of course he doesn’t have neighbors. A guy like Knight wouldn’t share walls with anyone. The whole situation feels surreal. A tech genius working in isolation. A woman alone in her apartment, drowning in questions. The perfect start to a Hallmark movie … or a horror movie.

I glance around my apartment. The table beside me is littered with cold cups of tea and printed screenshots of Michael’s last known locations. Every surface holds some piece of the puzzle I can’t solve alone. The air feels heavy, thick with everything I’m failing to see.

Eva: You sure about this?

Knight: Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.

I grab my keys and laptop. The smart thing would be to stay home. To keep our relationship safely digital. But nothing about the past nine weeks since Michael disappeared has been smart. And right now, the thought of being alone with all this ... the thought of sitting in front of a screen, surrounded by the cold emptiness of my apartment ...

Eva: Okay. I’m on my way.

Knight: Good choice. See you soon.

CHAPTER THREE

Knight

I should sleep,but system cleanup waits for no hacker, and half-assed security protocols are how amateurs end up wearing orange jumpsuits … or dead. Neither option has ever appealed to me.

Bishop’s name lights up my phone.Again. The messages stack, each more insistent than the last.

Bishop: Need your input. Call me.

Bishop: Knight. Important.

Bishop: You know I can just show up if you keep ignoring me.

Of course he would. And if he drags Rook along, that’s a whole different problem. It’d probably turn into some kind of criminal family counseling session. Ex-assassin and professional identity thief staging an intervention? The irony is unbearable.

I fire back a response.

---