Ivy was paralyzed in the center of her living room.
The words continued to shine on her phone screen.
He's in trouble. Don't let him open the drive.
Her gaze drifted to the picture—Elias outside her window, unaware, his form clear against the rain-slickened glass. And just behind him, reflected dimly in the pane: a figure.
Tall. Dark. Masked.
Watching.
The message contained no context. No date. But the meaning was unmistakable.
Elias wasn't even in the story.
He was in it.
And maybe not on her side, she thought.
She acted quickly and quietly, tucking Carradine's flash drive back into its envelope and shoving it inside her coat lining. Turning, Elias was coming into the room, massaging the back of his neck, hair tousled from sleep.
"Morning," he growled, throat rough.
She nodded. "Sleep okay?"
"I've had worse nightmares awake," he said.
He moved to grab the coffee pot and pour a cup.
Ivy watched him warily.
He caught the glance.
"What?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Then stated, "Carradine had a file on you."
Elias's body stiffened.
His hand around the mug handle gripped more tightly.
"How long have you known?" he asked.
"I discovered it last night."
He didn't respond.
"I need to ask you something," she said gently.
"Go ahead."
"Who turned you?"
That hurt.
Elias blinked once. And then set the mug down—slowly, deliberately.
"Nobody broke me," he said.
"Then why was Carradine watching for your breakability?" Why did he tell you you'd 'need breaking' before you could be useful? What the fuck did you do, Elias?"
His lips opened. Closed.
And then—he sat.
Not slumped. Not battered.
Grounded.
Like someone who'd always known this moment was always going to happen.
"It was six years ago," he began.
I was working freelance for The Ledger. Not on staff—just barely enough to get my bylines. I was broke. Deep in student loans, sleeping on a futon, surviving on gigs. And then I got a tip—a confidential tip. A file. A lead that would blow open a zoning scandal on city redevelopment contracts."
Ivy said nothing.
"I went with it. I built a narrative that was solid. I thought I had it all. But something didn't work. There was one permit—one file—that didn't fit. When I went to check it out, I found that it had been planted."
"By whom?" Ivy asked.
"I don't know. But I went with it anyway."
He looked at her then.
Eyes red-rimmed, jaw set.
I was so sure. I craved the story. I had to number. I did not give in. And when it fell apart, they didn't merely take me down. They used me to discredit everyone else who was making noise."
"Carradine included," Ivy said.
"Exactly."
He leaned back in the chair. "He came to me afterwards. Quiet. No judgment. Just truth. Told me I had potential if I could just get it through my head when to shut up and when to open up."
"And did you?"
"I'm trying."
Ivy breathed in, level but sharp. "And the others who sent that picture? Who warned you you were in danger?"
He knit his brow. "What picture?"
She showed it.
He stared at the screen for a long time.
"That's my apartment window."
### Instruction: "I know."
He sat up, wide awake. "I guess someone's spying on us both."
They didn't say a word.
The dynamic between them had changed.
It wasn't anger. Not exactly.
But it was no longer trust.
Not blind, at least.
Ivy stood up. "I need to be alone."
"I understand."
She grabbed her coat and headed towards the door. Before she left, she looked back over her shoulder.
"You still have time, Elias," she told him.
"To do what?"
The wind outside was cold. The sky hung low over the city, full of rain that had not yet fallen.
Ivy did not get far. Just three blocks to a park bench where she had sat and read before work, in the days when life was small and contained. In the days before anyone cared.
Her phone buzzed.
Another message. No name. Three words only.
He doesn't know.
Ivy stared at it.
Then replied:
"Who are you?"
Silence.
And then—
Another message.
The window wasn't for you. It was a warning to him.
Trust is the trap.
She came home just at dusk.
Elias had disappeared.
The flash drive was untouched.
But there was a note on the table:
"I'll find them. I'll fix what I broke. I'll earn the right to stand next to you. Or I won't stand at all."
That night, Ivy sat in her apartment, the flash drive nestled in her hand, questioning whether or not she was supposed to open it—break it.
Was Carradine warning her?
Or testing her?
She inserted it into her computer.
Files appeared instantly.
Dozens.
Stamped not with project, but name.
Names.
Voices.
Each file a recording.
Some were testimonies.
Some were confessions.
And one was Carradine himself.
She opened it.
His voice filled the room.
Weary. Worn. But still clear.
If you find this, Ivy, then I was not successful in protecting you from what I started. I have always had faith in quiet power. I believed that if I placed it in the correct hands, it would grow by itself. But I never knew how cruel the world would try to snuff it out.
"You are not a savior. You are not a weapon. You are a center. People will turn towards you because they see something in themselves when they look at you. Don't try to guide them. Just move along with them. And if the moment arises to choose between truth and security…
"Choose the world you want to live in."
"And if he comes back—if Elias comes back—let him speak. Let him bleed. But don't bear his shame. That's his own."