Chapter 5 -Echoes
1038 Words
The house was quiet again.
But it wasn’t the same kind of quiet.
It was layered now—beneath the hum of motion sensors and the soft blink of cameras, beneath the silence of sleeping children and the weight of her own thoughts.
Rori stood in the hallway, barefoot, staring at the panic button installed beneath her nightstand.
She hadn’t touched it.
Not yet.
Downstairs, the tablet glowed on the coffee table. A grid of live feeds showed her home from every angle. Ren had calibrated the system himself—no blind spots, no delays.
She watched the alley cam for a long time.
Nothing moved.
But her chest still felt tight.
She was pouring tea when Sandro walked in, unannounced but not unwelcome.
“You need a better lock,” he said, setting a folder on the counter.
“I thought Ren fixed it.”
“He did. But I still got in.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You picked it?”
“I tested it.”
“Same thing.”
He grinned. “You’re learning.”
She handed him a mug. “What’s in the folder?”
“Background on the shell company Rivera flagged. It’s tied to a holding firm in New York. Offshore accounts. No direct link to Evan, but the timing’s suspicious.”
Rori opened the folder. The documents were dense—names, dates, wire transfers.
“Someone’s laundering something,” she said.
“Or hiding someone.”
She looked up. “You think Evan’s working with someone?”
“I think Evan’s not smart enough to do this alone.”
She hesitated. “He used to be charming. Calculated. But never strategic.”
Sandro leaned in. “You saw the mask. Not the machine behind it.”
Ren arrived an hour later, silent as ever. He didn’t speak until he’d scanned the perimeter again.
“Nothing new,” he said. “But the Lexus moved.”
Rori’s pulse jumped. “Where?”
“Two blocks east. Parked near the school.”
Her stomach dropped. “Emi—”
“She’s fine,” Ren said. “We had eyes on her.”
Sandro leaned against the wall. “They’re circling. Testing boundaries.”
Rori folded her arms. “So what do we do?”
Ren looked at her. “We tighten the net.”
Sandro added, “And we start asking questions they don’t want answered.”
That night, after the kids were asleep, Rori sat on the porch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The air was cool, the street quiet.
Sandro joined her first, carrying two glasses of wine.
“You look like you’re waiting for something,” he said.
“I’m waiting for the fear to go away.”
He handed her a glass. “It doesn’t. You just learn to live around it.”
She took a sip. “That’s not comforting.”
“It’s honest.”
Ren appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He didn’t speak, but his presence filled the space like gravity.
Rori looked at both of them. “Why are you still here?”
Sandro’s voice was soft. “Because you haven’t asked us to leave.”
Ren added, “And because you haven’t asked us to stay.”
She stared into her glass. “I don’t know how to ask for anything.”
Sandro sat beside her. “Then let us show you.”
Ren stepped closer, his gaze steady. “You don’t have to be ready. You just have to be open.”
Rori’s breath caught. The porch felt smaller. Warmer. Charged.
Sandro’s hand brushed hers, fingers curling gently around her knuckles.
Ren’s voice was low. “You’re allowed to want something. Even now.”
Her voice trembled. “I don’t know what I want.”
Sandro leaned in, his breath warm against her temple. “Then let us help you figure it out.”
Ren’s fingers grazed her wrist, feather-light. “We’re not asking for everything. Just a moment.”
She closed her eyes.
And let herself feel it.
The heat. The tension. The possibility.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
But her heart did.
It beat louder than it had in years.
Inside, the tablet buzzed.
Motion alert.
Ren crossed the room in seconds, tapping the screen.
The alley cam flickered.
A figure.
Hooded. Still.
Watching.
Sandro’s voice sharpened. “That’s not random.”
Rori stepped closer. “Is it Evan?”
Ren zoomed in. “Too tall. Too still.”
The figure didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there, facing the camera directly.
Then, slowly, it raised a hand.
Not a wave.
A warning.
A gloved finger pointed toward the lens.
Then across the screen.
Toward the house.
Rori’s breath caught. “He knows we’re watching.”
Ren’s jaw tightened. “He wants us to.”
Sandro muttered, “This isn’t just surveillance. It’s psychological warfare.”
Rori stared at the screen. Her voice was quiet. “Then so will I.”
She didn’t sleep.
She sat in the living room, lights off, watching the feeds.
The figure didn’t return.
But the message had been sent.
She opened the folder Sandro had left earlier. Scanned the names. The accounts. The patterns.
She wasn’t a detective.
But she was a mother.
And she was done being afraid.
Flashback
She was twenty-seven. Evan had just come home from a business dinner. She’d made the mistake of asking how it went.
He’d smiled. Poured a drink. Told her she was too nosy.
Then he’d locked her phone in the safe.
“You don’t need distractions,” he’d said. “You need discipline.”
She’d spent the night staring at the ceiling, wondering how she’d become someone who apologized for breathing.
She remembered the way her fingers trembled when she tried to unlock the safe the next morning. The way her heart raced when she failed.
She remembered thinking: If I disappear, no one will know.
The next morning, she woke before sunrise.
She brewed coffee. Packed lunches. Braided Emi’s hair. Checked Tomo’s drone battery. Tied Souta’s shoes.
She kissed each of them like armor.
And when they left for school, she didn’t cry.
She opened her laptop.
And started digging.
- Writer
