He stared at me for a long moment, his thumb tracing the soft skin of my wrist.

The silence in the penthouse was deep, broken only by the sound of the rain.

Suddenly, a sharp, repetitive beep cut through the quiet.

Arthur’s hand tightened on my wrist before he slowly let go.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his encrypted phone.

The screen illuminated his face in a cold, blue light.

I looked at the screen from my position on the floor.

It was a video file from an unknown number.

Arthur tapped the screen to play it.

The video showed a live feed of the street level outside our building.

A single figure stood directly under the streetlamp, looking up at our windows.

The figure raised a hand, holding up a familiar object that caught the light.

It was my old silver charm bracelet—the one Tristan had stolen from my apartment.

Then, the phone vibrated with an incoming text message from the same number.

The text message was short, but its implications felt like a sudden drop in temperature.