I did not keep my primary backups on the university cloud.

I had never trusted the department’s network security, especially after Hunter started showing an interest in my daily logs.

Three years of mass spectrometry data, gene-sequencing results, and patient cell-line records were stored on a physical, military-grade external drive.

It was currently hidden inside my old apartment.

I had kept the lease on the small studio near the edge of campus, using it as a quiet place to write my thesis when Hunter’s mother became too intrusive at our house.

I drove through the rain, my wipers slapping a steady rhythm against the windshield.

The city streets were slick and black.

I parked two blocks away from the apartment building to avoid being seen.

I pulled my hood up and walked

quickly along the narrow alleyway behind the building.

The wind pushed cold rain against my face.

I reached the rusted metal door at the back of the property and slipped my key into the lock.

It turned with a heavy, scraping click.

The air inside the stairwell smelled of old dust and damp concrete.