Page 95 of Taken Off Camera
I swing my legs off the bed, wincing when my feet meet cool hardwood. Sebastian’s T-shirt hangs from my frame, reaching mid-thigh as I pad toward the bathroom. The face in the mirror appears rested but wary, dark circles fading beneath my eyes. Despite how much I’ve been sleeping, I still feel off balance, not fully belonging in Rockford Manor, and unable to go home.
After a quick shower, I pull on fresh clothes from the pile Sebastian bought for me. The simple jeans and hoodie are an attempt to comfort me, but still more expensive than what I’m used to.
The corridor outside our room stretches empty in both directions, the usual staff nowhere in sight.
I wander toward the main staircase, following the faint hum of electronics rather than voices. My sock-covered feet make no sound on the carpet runner as I descend to the first floor, where I spot light spilling from beneath the partially closed door to the war room.
My pulse quickens as I push the door open.
The war room has transformed since yesterday. Additional monitors line the walls, cables snake across the floor in organized chaos, and the scent of fresh coffee mingles with the metallic tang of electronics running hot.
Milo sits cross-legged in an oversized leather chair, his slender fingers dancing across three keyboards arranged in a semi-circle before him.
Saint hunches at a desk nearby, his familiar profile illuminated by blue light as he scans the documents assigned to him. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he works, a tell I recognize from our years together. He’s always been a hands-on sort of guy and easily frustrated when forced to sit still and read.
Ezra stands by the window, his back to the room, phone pressed to his ear. His free hand gestures, emphasizing points in a conversation I can only hear half of.
“Yes, with the original documentation… No, under section 27-B… That creates plausible deniability while still achieving the desired effect…”
None of them sees me hovering in the doorway, a ghost at the edges of their coordinated assault. The knots in my stomach twist tighter as I observe them working with the fluid efficiency of people who have done this many times before.
When a warm hand settles on the small of my back, I startle at the contact.
“Sorry,” Sebastian murmurs close to my ear. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
His presence steadies me, though the somberexpression on his face does little to ease the tension building in my chest.
“What’s happening?” I whisper, though there’s no real need for quiet.
Sebastian guides me the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind us with a soft click. “We’ve begun the soft pressure phase.”
“The what?”
Milo spares us a glance before returning to his screens. Saint gives me a lift of his chin in greeting before his irritated gaze returns to his screen.
“The systematic application of pressure on our target.” Sebastian steers me toward a corner workstation where multiple monitors display Travis’s entire digital footprint. “We start with the invisible. No physical confrontation, no direct threats.”
My throat tightens as I scan the screens. Bank accounts, utility bills, rental agreement, driver’s license, and work schedule, every aspect of Travis’s life laid bare.
“This is what you meant by clean methods,” I murmur.
“Yes.” Sebastian’s hand is still warm on my back. “We dismantle his infrastructure piece by piece. By the time he realizes what’s happening, there will be nothing left.”
As if on cue, Milo hits a final key with theatrical emphasis. “First phase complete. His banking access is locked for ‘suspicious activity.’ The freeze will clear in seventy-two hours, during which time all automatic payments will fail.”
My mouth dries. “His rent?”
“That, as well as utilities, insurance, and his phone bill,” Sebastian confirms. “Nothing immediately catastrophic, but the dominoes are now falling.”
Saint always handled the fallout before. I’d only point him toward the monster and convince myself it was different. That the aftermath wasn’t on me. But watching these screens light up one by one, the illusion shatters. I’m part of the process now, no longer merely the trigger.
Ezra ends his call and turns to face the room. “Legal obstacles in place. His rental contract has been flagged for review due to a conveniently discovered code violation. His landlord will be serving notice by the end of the day.”
Their methodicalness amazes me. I’ve tracked stalkers before, exposed them to consequences, but never with this level of coordinated destruction. It wasn’t even possible with my self-taught hacking skills. With these methods, I don’t have to risk Saintgetting in trouble or hurt while dealing out his form of justice.
“His social security number has been flagged in the system.” Sebastian pulls up new windows filled with code. “Not enough to trigger a federal investigation, but sufficient to create friction in any database that runs standard verification.”
Milo leans back with a bloodthirsty smile. “Good. Now we wait for him to feel the pressure.”
