𝕮𝖔𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊

I never wanted to understand how this world worked. The late-night phone calls, the sudden silences, the way my brother’s voice would drop when I entered the room—I ignored all of it. It was easier that way. Safer. I told myself that whatever Alec was involved in had nothing to do with me. I was wrong. The hospital smells like antiseptic and something colder—fear, maybe. It clings to the back of my throat as I stand outside his room, staring through the glass. Machines breathe for him in steady, indifferent rhythms. My brother, who was always too loud, too daring, lies unnaturally still. “Accident,” they said. But nothing about this feels like one. I sit in the waiting area long after visiting hours end, my laptop balanced on my knees, the glow of the screen reflecting in the dark window beside me. If no one will tell me the truth, I’ll find it myself. It starts small. Hospital records. Security footage. Data that should have been retained had been deleted. Someone covered their tracks — and didn't want the truth to be discovered. That’s when I make my mistake. I follow a trail I don’t understand, break through layers of protection that should have stopped me, and slip into a system that doesn’t belong to the hospital. Clean. Structured. Dangerous. The moment I realize it, it’s already too late. A line of code freezes on my screen. Then another. My access flickers—like something is looking back at me. My pulse spikes. Someone notices. I shut everything down, hands trembling, heart racing as if I’ve just stepped off the edge of something irreversible. I tell myself it’s fine. That I covered my tracks. That whoever owns that system won’t find me. But deep down, I know better. Because somewhere out there is a man I’ve never met — one with green eyes sharp enough to see through lies, dark hair, and a presence people don’t question. A man who doesn’t forgive mistakes. And I just made one inside his world.