The glow of a dozen monitors painted Lena Park's face in shifting shades of blue.
Lines of code scrolled down the central screen like rain. Each pulse of data carried a small trace of the man she was hunting—Ethan Iver.
Three days had passed since the casino.
Three days since that single, reckless kiss that still burned on her lips.
She'd told herself it had been a slip, an impulse, nothing more.
But every night since, she'd closed her eyes and felt again the strength in his arms, the quiet certainty that had replaced the shy boy she once knew.
It had been three years together, two weeks apart, and somehow that one kiss had undone all her resolve.
Lena exhaled, forcing the thought away. "Track, don't think," she whispered.
Her system pinged.
PX's private network—layered through false servers in four countries—had picked up a steady digital footprint. Ethan's hotel-card payments, an encrypted estate gate signal, a restaurant property under his name.
Coordinates stabilized on the map: Hills Estate, Sector Seven.
Lena leaned back in her chair. "So that's where you've been hiding."
She closed the laptop, slid it into her backpack, and caught her reflection in the dark screen—eyes tired, heart confused.
"This is just reconnaissance," she told herself. "I'll make it look like chance."
But she already knew it was a lie.
Elsewhere – Vale Group, Midtown
A glass tumbler clinked against a desk. Adam Vale lounged in his chair, half bored, half impatient, while one of his men stood before him.
"No movement?" Adam asked.
The guard shook his head. "Ethan Iver hasn't been seen for three days. His mother and sister are still at the hotel. We've kept watch like you said."
Adam's lips twitched in irritation. "He's hiding. Probably thinks a few good grades make him untouchable."
He stood, walking to the window. The city stretched below like a grid of gold veins.
"You know what happens when people forget their place?" he said softly. "They need reminders."
The man stayed silent; he'd learned not to answer when Adam spoke like that.
Adam's eyes narrowed. "Keep the family under surveillance. If Ethan shows up, we grab them. If not…" He smiled coldly. "A little scare will bring him out."
The guard nodded and left quickly. The room felt colder once he was gone.
Adam turned his glass in his hand, watching the liquid swirl. "Let's see how long you can stay quiet, Ethan Iver."
Hills Estate – Late Afternoon
The quiet hum of the refrigerator filled the space between Ethan and Faye.
She sat on the couch, bandaged hands folded on her knees. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
When she finally spoke, her voice trembled. "Those men… they weren't random. I owe money. Debts."
Ethan frowned. "Debts big enough for trained enforcers?"
She nodded quickly. "My boyfriend borrowed from the wrong people and disappeared. They came for me instead."
He studied her face. Her fear looked real, her breathing uneven. Yet something in the story didn't line up. Loan sharks rarely moved like professionals.
Still, he didn't press. "You're safe here for now," he said simply.
Her shoulders loosened with relief. "Thank you."
Ethan stood. "Rest. I'll bring dinner."
Outside, the evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain. The estate's small marketplace sat a few blocks downhill, lanterns flickering to life as residents shopped for the night.
He walked between the stalls, choosing vegetables and bread, letting the calm wash over him after too many days of noise.
Then he turned—and froze.
A figure in a gray hoodie stood a few paces away, half hidden beneath the awning of a flower stall. She looked up at that exact moment.
Lena.
For an instant, neither of them moved.
She hadn't planned what to say; she'd rehearsed dozens of lines in her head, all of them vanishing now that he was in front of her.
Ethan broke the silence first, awkwardly. "Hi."
"Hi?" she echoed, almost laughing. "That's it? After everything?"
Her tone carried both anger and relief. She stepped closer before she could stop herself, eyes searching his. "You just vanish, no call, nothing, and all you have is hi?"
Ethan's mouth opened, then closed. "You left first," he said quietly.
The words hit harder than he expected. For a heartbeat, the world shrank to the space between them—the sound of the market fading into background hum.
Lena's heart pounded. She'd promised herself she would keep it casual, that she only wanted to see him.
But seeing him standing there, the same gentle face framed by steadier eyes, broke her restraint.
She moved before reason could intervene.
Her hands caught his collar, pulled him down, and she kissed him.
The noise of the market vanished. For a heartbeat the world stilled: the taste of rain in the air, the warmth of his breath, the shock that froze them both.
Then she realized what she'd done and pulled back, eyes wide.
Ethan stood motionless—part confusion, part disbelief. But before either could speak, light flickered across his vision.
[System Alert – Unauthorized Profile Access Detected]
Subject Detected: LENA PARK
Access granted through physical-contact anomaly.
Profile Summary
Affection Level: 33 %
Loyalty Level: 50 %
Other Traits: LOCKED
System Version Insufficient – Detailed Profile Unavailable.
Ethan blinked. "What… is this?"
The holographic panel hovered between them, its glow faint but unmistakable.
Lena frowned, following his gaze. "Ethan? What's wrong?"
He took a slow step back, trying to wave the interface away, but the lines of text stayed burned across his sight.
He'd never seen anything like it—the system shouldn't have been able to read someone else. Version 1.0 didn't even support external profiles.
Then realization hit: the system wasn't upgraded, yet the contact—the kiss—had triggered a bridge it wasn't supposed to have.
Lena touched his sleeve. "Ethan?"
He looked up at her, still caught between shock and disbelief.
The faint digital light faded from the air, leaving only her and the sound of the rain beginning to fall outside.
"I… don't know," he said finally, voice low. "But something just changed."
The storm clouds above the estate rumbled softly, as if answering him.