Chapter 76

Amelia

The moment I saw the bracelet, I knew. Silver and minimalist, with a crescent clasp that mirrored my pendant a little too closely. The exact curve. The same burnished finish. She held out her wrist to show me, beaming, oblivious to the way my chest caved inward.

“Dad said it was from a council artisan,” Jenny said, casually twisting her arm back and forth. “Looks like your pendant, doesn’t it?”

I froze, words catching in my throat like thorns. “Does it?”

Ever since that open discussion, things between Jenny and me haven't felt as frozen. Every now and then, she'd even ask me work questions like I was just another packmate.

After everything that went down, part of me still ached to make things right between us—but Moon Goddess knows, not like this cold, careful dance we're stuck in now.

She laughed, bouncing slightly on her heels. “Come on. They’re totally part of a set.”

I forced a smile, too tight. “I… I think they just use the same designers sometimes.”

Jenny tilted her head. “Still. That’s kind of a weird coincidence, isn’t it? Since when do you waste good prey-money on trinkets like this? Smells like a gift from someone specific?”

My heart pounded. “Imports probably got a bulk deal,” I said lightly, already turning away. “Sorry, I have to check on a signage order.”

I didn’t wait for her response. I hurried down the hallway toward the bathroom, vision tunneling, breath shallow. The sound of my boots on the tile echoed like gunshots. I locked myself in the farthest stall and gripped the edge of the sink until my fingers ached. My reflection looked pale and shaky. Too pale. I yanked the necklace from under my collar and stared at it.

Of all the designs. Of all the days.

My hand hovered over the clasp like I might tear it off, but I didn’t. I just stood there, trembling, until the adrenaline wore off and I could breathe again. I splashed cold water on my face, twice, then again. The sting helped.

The weight of the necklace seemed heavier now, its warmth from my skin replaced by the heat of panic. I tucked it back under my shirt with trembling fingers and forced myself to walk out like I hadn’t just unraveled.

Later that afternoon, I had to present the weekly donor analytics to senior staff in the briefing room. I forced myself to walk in steady, notes clipped neatly in hand, but the moment I saw him already seated at the table, suit crisp and face unreadable, I nearly stumbled.

He didn’t say a word. Just sat across from me, eyes locked, elbows on the table like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t fallen apart in the bathroom barely an hour ago, still smelling like him.

The room was uncomfortably warm. Or maybe that was just me. I set the packet down in front of me and took a deep breath. My voice didn’t crack, but it was close.

“Thank you all for coming. I’ve broken down this week’s donor responses by engagement category. As you’ll see, the west district showed strong results post-broadcast, but…”

I faltered. His gaze was too steady.

“…but retention dropped significantly for first-time donors, which we suspect is tied to unconfirmed smear campaigns on social media.”

Halfway through my presentation, I made the mistake of glancing at him again. His eyes weren’t just watching. They were devouring. Slow and careful. Like he could see under my skin.

My words picked up speed. “We’ll need targeted outreach to offset attrition. Targeted messaging. I’ve highlighted a few scripts we can test in districts 7 through 11.”

I knew I was rambling. I didn’t care. I had to get out of there.

By the time I finished, my cheeks were flushed, and my knuckles white from gripping the podium.

When the meeting ended, staffers stood, chatting in low murmurs. I collected my papers quickly, shoving them back into my binder with barely-contained urgency. I kept my eyes off Richard entirely.

Tasha lingered by the doorway. “Hey, Amelia.”

I turned, tried to look normal. “Yeah?”

She leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed. “You and Richard been spending a lot of time together lately?”

My pulse stuttered. “What?”

She smirked. “Just seems like you’re always around when he is. Must be a promotion or something.”

I gave a short laugh. “He’s the candidate. I’m part of the communications team. I think that’s called ‘doing my job.’”

Tasha nodded slowly, still smirking. “Sure. If you say so.” She pushed off the frame and walked off, her tone light but something darker flickering behind her eyes.

That night, I was on my third round of inventory checks when I heard the copy room door click shut behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know it was him.

“Richard,” I said without looking up.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, and I felt the tension rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke. “Tasha needs to be watched.”

I turned, slowly. “You think she knows something?”

Richard’s jaw tensed. “Not yet. But she wants to. She’s watching you. Too closely.”

I swallowed. “She asked me a question today. It felt… loaded.”

“Keep your guard up.”

He didn’t move to touch me, didn’t lean in close, but the air between us crackled with everything unsaid. He looked like he wanted to, though. He always did. Then he left, without another word.

The rest of the night unraveled in slow dread. I stayed behind to triple check the file room reports, tension chewing at the back of my neck. The building had emptied out, the lights dimmed to half power, the hum of the air vents the only sound.

Around 1 a.m., I heard it, a noise. Soft. Subtle. The click of a drawer. A shuffle of papers.

I moved silently toward the records office. The light was on. The terminal glowed red.

SYSTEM LOCKOUT. CREDENTIAL ERROR.

And the name on the screen? Mine.

Panic lanced through me. My name. My access.

I stood frozen for a full ten seconds before my hand moved. I didn’t think. I just called him.

He answered on the second ring. “Where are you?”

“Records office. Someone just tried to access the system. With my credentials.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Stay there. Don’t touch anything.”

Twenty minutes later, Richard was in the building. He didn’t come alone.

Nathan arrived with him, face grim, steps sharp. The three of us gathered around the monitor. I explained what I saw, voice taut with nerves. The log-in attempts. The failed access. The timing. The panic.

Richard stared at the screen in silence for a long moment.

“Someone’s trying to frame you.”

My throat tightened. “It has to be someone with admin-level access.”

He nodded slowly. “Or someone who’s getting help from someone who does. Either way, they knew what they were doing.”

Nathan began reviewing the digital logs, fingers flying across the keyboard. Richard circled around to me, lowering his voice.

“I’m assigning this to you. Quietly. Go through all internal access patterns. Search everything. Don’t leave a single entry unchecked.”

I nodded. “I will.”

He touched my arm. His eyes were softer now. “No mistakes. Be careful.”

I worked until nearly three a.m. My eyes burned. My head throbbed. I drank two full cups of stale breakroom coffee and powered through hundreds of system logs, looking for anything that felt out of place. By the end, I had a list of names. Possible overlaps. Patterns.

When I finally packed up and made my way to the parking lot, I wasn’t surprised to find him waiting there. He leaned against his car, coat collar turned up against the wind, hands buried in his pockets. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

“Still here,” I said softly.

He looked at me, then stepped forward. His hand brushed my hair back from my face, slow and intimate. His fingertips lingered at my cheekbone.

Then he kissed me. Soft. Fleeting. Like it hurt him to pull away.

When he did, his eyes lingered on my mouth like he was memorizing it.

“We can’t get sloppy,” he said, voice low.

“I know.”

He exhaled, something hollow and aching. “I hate this.”

“I know,” I whispered again.

I stepped back. The space between us felt like a wound.

“I should go.”

He didn’t stop me, just watched as I walked away from his car. And for the first time in a long time, I went back to my own apartment, alone.