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Logan turns one of the monitors toward us. “Aaron.”

I blink. “Aaron?”

“Who the fuck is Aaron?” Caleb scoffs.

“He’s been running a silent keylogger through a dummy app she downloaded back in February. Probably sent it to her as a ‘study tool’ or something. I checked her app history—there’s one in there that’s not on the App Store anymore. Hidden files. Password access. Every word she typed, he saw it,” Logan explains.

Caleb shakes his head. “That guy must be from her past.”

“Apparently not,” Logan says. “He’s the one who pulled her photos. The ones from Blackridge. He went digging after she stopped answering his calls. According to the call logs, that was a while back. Looks like he got jealous. Found the videos. Started copying emails. Even got into the drive where the team shares footage.”

My stomach sinks.

He hacked her.

Every message, every threat is this fucking asshole. Watching. Waiting.

“Why?” I mutter. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

Thatcher laughs.

Logan shrugs. “He’s not finished. I traced the last email. He scheduled another batch to go out tomorrow morning. If we don’t stop him now, it hits her dad’s inbox.”

Caleb’s jaw tightens. “We need answers.”

Yeah.

And fast.

He’s on his knees by the time we reach the clearing, the blindfold still in place, zip-ties biting into his wrists. The forest stretches around us like a cathedral of silence, tall pines watching like judges. The air’s damp. Cold. Still. Even the birds don’t bother singing. No one moves until I say so.

Aaron shifts against the dirt, his breathing quick. He hasn’t spoken since we pulled him from his motel and threw him in the trunk. I know his type—calculating, narcissistic, so convinced of his own invincibility he probably thinks this is a warning. Just a scare. He has no idea what’s about to happen.

Caleb stands a few feet away, arms folded, jaw clenched. His Reaper’s mask pulled over his head, but he hasn’t looked away once. Not since we dragged Aaron out of the car. Thatcher’s behind him. Noah’s checking the rope looped over the nearest tree branch. Just in case we go that far. It looks like they do this shit all the time.

The other Reapers wait on the edge of the clearing, eyes on me, because right now, I’m the outsider.

Then I swear Sienna steps out of thin air.

Where the fuck did she even come from? And did Caleb call her here?

She doesn’t speak as she crosses the grass, hands in the pocket of her oversized sweatshirt, her mouth set in that calm, unreadable way that makes men underestimate her. Her gaze falls on Aaron like she’s dissecting him. Nothing soft in it. No pity.

She stops beside Caleb. “You brought him here?”

He nod. “He’s yours.”

Caleb steps closer, voice low but tight. “We traced everything. The spyware. The fake study app. The drive access. It was him.”

Aaron’s head jerks. He starts to speak, but I cut the blindfold off with a flick of my knife. He blinks into the light, pupils narrowing. His gaze lands on her.

“Sienna,” he starts. “Look, whatever they told you—”

“Shut the fuck up, Aaron,” she says. Her gaze softens for a moment like she might feel bad for him and then her face hardens again. I turn my attention back to him.

He freezes. She steps closer. I see the way his eyes track her legs, her throat, the way his lips part like he thinks she still belongs to him.

“You stalked me all the way here?” she says. “Watched me through my screen. Downloaded my messages. Copied photos. You went through all that trouble to blackmail me? What the fuck?”