Chapter 5:
Mia's fingers were warm around mine.
Not tight. Not desperate. Just… there.
I wasn't used to that.
We walked across campus side by side, the late afternoon sun stretching long shadows across the pavement. Students passed us in clusters—laughing, arguing, living. The world moved easily around us, unaware of how fragile it really was.
"You're really quiet," Mia said after a moment, glancing at me.
"I've been told that before."
She smiled. "Is it a bad habit, or a personality trait?"
"Depends who you ask."
She laughed softly. The sound was light. Real. Too real.
I let go of her hand before it lingered too long.
A mistake.
Habits formed were weaknesses.
"So," she said, walking a little closer to keep pace, "where did you transfer from?"
"Overseas," I replied smoothly.
"Where exactly?"
"Europe."
She arched a brow. "That's… vague."
"It's accurate."
She gave me a look, half amused, half suspicious. "You dodge questions like you're trained for it."
I met her gaze calmly. "Maybe I am."
She studied me for a second longer, then shook her head. "You're strange, Evan."
I didn't deny it.
We reached the café near the humanities building—a quiet place with glass windows and warm lighting. Inside, the smell of coffee and pastries lingered in the air.
Normal.
I ordered black coffee. She ordered something sweet I didn't catch the name of.
We sat near the window.
She talked. I listened.
About classes. About dorm drama. About her childhood memories of traveling with her father. I noted the way she softened when she spoke about her mother—absent from the conversation, but present in the pauses.
She didn't ask about mine.
Good.
I noticed things instead.
The way her eyes flicked toward reflections in glass.
The way she unconsciously mirrored my posture.
The way she leaned in without realizing it.
And beyond her—
I saw movement.
Across the street, reflected faintly in the café window.
A man stood beside a bus stop, phone in hand.
Mid-forties. Gray jacket. Casual.
Too casual.
He hadn't moved in seven minutes.
I took a slow sip of coffee.
Didn't look directly at him.
My pulse stayed steady.
"Do you ever feel like someone's watching you?" Mia asked suddenly.
I looked at her.
Her brows were knit, gaze distant, fixed on nothing in particular.
"Sometimes," I said.
She exhaled. "Yeah… me too. Probably just paranoia."
Probably.
The man across the street shifted his weight.
Confirmed.
I stood smoothly. "I need the restroom. I'll be right back."
She nodded. "Take your time."
I didn't.
Instead, I exited through the side door.
The alley behind the café was narrow, quiet. I walked three steps before stopping.
"Stop pretending," I said calmly.
Footsteps halted behind me.
"You noticed quickly," a voice said.
Older. Calm. Controlled.
I turned.
He stood there now—no phone, no smile. His eyes were sharp, measuring.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"You already know," I replied.
He chuckled. "Still direct. That hasn't changed."
My eyes narrowed slightly. "That implies familiarity."
"Observation," he corrected. "People like you don't disappear."
I stepped closer—not aggressively. Casually.
He stiffened anyway.
"You're on a college campus," I said. "That's sloppy."
"You're compromised," he replied. "That's dangerous."
I studied him.
A-rank at best.
Experienced. Trained. But not exceptional.
"You shouldn't be here," he added.
I closed the distance between us in a single step.
Not rushed.
Not violent.
Just inevitable.
My hand rose, two fingers pressing lightly against the side of his neck.
A nerve.
He froze instantly—muscles locked, breath caught.
I leaned in, voice low.
"You followed me. Watched her. That's your mistake."
Sweat beaded on his temple.
"You won't kill me here," he said.
I tilted my head slightly. "Why not?"
"Witnesses."
I glanced around the empty alley.
Then back at him.
"I don't need to kill you."
I withdrew my fingers.
He staggered back, gasping as sensation returned.
"Tell whoever sent you," I said calmly, "that I'm aware."
He swallowed. "And if they don't listen?"
I met his eyes—cold, distant.
"Then they'll stop sending people."
I turned away.
By the time I returned to the café, my expression hadn't changed.
Mia looked up immediately. "Everything okay?"
"Yes."
She searched my face, then nodded slowly.
We left together as the sun dipped lower.
Across campus, I felt it again.
Eyes.
Watching.
Not one.
Many.
That night, in my apartment, I stood before the mirror.
The glasses rested on my face. Black hair hid pale roots beneath dye.
Evan Carter stared back.
A lie I wore well.
My phone vibrated.
Mentor:
You're attracting attention.
I typed back calmly.
Me:
I'm controlling it.
A pause.
Mentor:
Emotions make control difficult.
I stared at my reflection.
At the mask.
At the man beneath it.
Me:
They won't interfere.
The response came slower this time.
Mentor:
See that they don't.
The screen went dark.
Outside, the city breathed.
And somewhere in it—
The game was tightening.