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CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

Evangeline

The ancient computer at the reference desk takes forever to shut down. It's been three days since I sat on the steps outside Knight's building, waiting for something that never came. I watch as the screen scrolls through its end-of-day routine, fighting the urge to just leave it running. Four weeks of late shifts hasn’t made the wait any easier, but at least the quiet gives me time to think.

The extra shifts have kept me busy, while I try to ignore the way the balance in my bank account keeps rising. I tried returning it at first, asking the bank. They said I’d have to speak to the person who deposited it. I tried to reach him through Michael, and tell him that I don’t need his guilt payments. When that didn’t work, I turned up at his apartment, where I was greeted by silence. So, now I just let it sit there, untouched. A reminder that Knight’s still trying to control things from a distance.

Instead, I threw myself into my job, not that working in a library is ever busy. But being surrounded by books has been comforting. The steady rhythm of reshelving returns, updating the catalog, helping the few students who stay this late—it’s almost enough to fill the silence. Almost enough to stop me from wondering if he’s watching me through the library’s cameras.

When the computer screen flickers instead of shutting down, my chest tightens with a familiar panic. My mind immediately questions whether someone is trying to get to me again. If I’m about to fall into another trap or another game. But I dismiss it immediately. Something like that wouldn’t happen twice.

The screen fills with strange characters, nothing like our usual system. Not a normal error message. Not normal at all.

Tom makes his final round through the stacks. “All good, Ms. Porter?”

“Fine.” I force my attention away from the screen. “Just finishing up.”

But when I look back, there’s a message waiting.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Security camera in section 4 needs maintenance.

I stare at the unfamiliar username, and my stomach churns. Is someone trying to manipulate me again? My fingers hover over the power button, memories of the last trap tightening like a vice around my thoughts.

The cursor blinks steadily, waiting for a response I won’t give. Not this time. Not again.

I shut down the computer properly and gather my things.

The next night, the same message appears. This time it isn’t when the shutdown process is running, but when I’m logging into the system for the start of my shift. Suspicion and fear flare again. But this time, the phrasing—calm, almost clinical—makes me pause.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Three cameras need maintenance now. Northwest corner completely blind.

I close the window without responding. Work needs doing, and I’m not playing this game.

The messages continue. Each night, always about security. Always about cameras, and blind spots, and ways someone could get to me. I ignore them all.

By the end of the week, I’ve developed a routine. See message. Close window. Continue working. Simple.

Until tonight.

R0GUE_N3XUS: The money’s for your safety, not guilt.

I stand there, staring. Only two people know about those deposits, and my refusal to touch them.

Another message appears.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Your apartment might be secure, but your workplace isn’t.

“Enough.” I reach for the power button. I’m done with cryptic messages and attempts to control my life from a distance.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Still stubborn, Glitch.

The name jolts through me. Only one person ever called me that. Only one person would know exactly how to get my attention.

I slam my hands against the keyboard.

Stop watching me.

R0GUE_N3XUS: I can’t.

Yes, you can. You managed to push me away just fine.

The cursor blinks several times before his response appears.

R0GUE_N3XUS: That was different.

No, it wasn’t. You made a choice. Live with it.

R0GUE_N3XUS: I was wrong.

Too bad. Go back to watching through your cameras and leave me alone.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Eva ...

Don’t. You don’t get to use my name. Not after four weeks of silence.

R0GUE_N3XUS: I need to explain.

No. You need to stop. Stop watching me. Stop sending money.

The cursor blinks steadily while I wait for his response. Part of me hopes he’ll just go away. A larger part knows he won’t.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Come to my apartment.

I actually laugh at that.

Are you serious?

R0GUE_N3XUS: Yes. Let me explain in person.

So you can push me away again when it gets too real?

R0GUE_N3XUS: No. So I can explain why I was wrong. Why I’ve been watching. Why I can’t stop.

I’m not interested in your explanations.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Then be interested in the truth. I’ll be honest with you.

The truth? You want to talk about truth? The truth is you’re a coward. You pushed me away and then tried to substitute money for actual contact.

R0GUE_N3XUS: Yes. I am. A coward who thought distance meant safety.

The honesty in his response catches me off guard. Knight doesn’t admit weakness. Doesn’t acknowledge fear.

Why now?

R0GUE_N3XUS: Because I was wrong. Because watching through cameras isn’t enough. Because I miss you.

Not good enough.

R0GUE_N3XUS: I know. Come tell me that in person. The doors will be open.

He's asking me to walk back into his world. Back where everything started. Where everything ended.

Why should I trust you?

R0GUE_N3XUS: You shouldn’t. But come anyway.

That’s not the answer I want.

R0GUE_N3XUS: It’s the honest one.

I stare at the cursor waiting for my response.

If this is a game ...

R0GUE_N3XUS: No games. Just me. Finally figuring out that pushing you away doesn’t actually keep either of us safe.

I should say no. Should make him work harder for forgiveness. Should make him feel every second of the past four weeks.

One hour.

R0GUE_N3XUS: I’ll be waiting.

The screen goes dark. The computer resumes its shutdown like nothing significant just happened. Like my heart isn’t trying to break free of my ribs.

One hour to decide if I’m really going to do this.