Through His Eyes

The Puma

It was 10:58 p.m., and Thomas was still awake. This wasn’t the norm for him. Bedtime was typically at 9 p.m. on his meticulously structured schedule. He sighed as he stared at the ceiling, the soft snoring of Mini, his retired military Shar-Pei, barely audible at the foot of the bed.

His mind lingered on the dinner he had with Eden. It was supposed to be a simple evening, but there was something about it that had stuck with him. He recalled the way she immediately agreed to go out with him, how conversational she had been. It felt easy, almost too easy, the way she spoke, how she seemed to see him—not the man he had carefully crafted, but something deeper, something buried even from himself.

He grimaced, the thoughts returning to the little things she had done that night—things that kept gnawing at him. The rude dismissal of his suggestion that he might live near her, the way she hadn’t even taken a second to confirm who’s car she was getting into. Thomas had seen enough kidnapping incidents to know that women like her, dressed like that, shouldn’t be getting into unknown vehicles. The thought made him shiver, but then his mind immediately returned to her in that dress.

That light pink sundress. The one that complimented the caramel color of her skin so perfectly. How it hugged her form in just the right way, subtly accentuating the curves he’d barely let himself notice. The way her hair draped over the nearly exposed back part of the dress, soft and delicate.

He let out a breath, trying to shake the images from his mind, but they lingered. The way she had carried herself with such ease, yet there was something fragile in her confidence, something raw. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was enough to make him rethink everything about her—everything he thought he knew. Eden was unpredictable, and that’s what made her both captivating and unsettling.

The urge to know more about her, to peel back the layers she kept hidden, was growing stronger. But with every piece of information he gathered, every small observation, he found himself questioning his own instincts. She wasn’t just some assignment, some subject to study. She was a mystery, and Thomas Ruthven never liked leaving mysteries unsolved.

Thomas sat up, the bed creaking beneath him as he swung his legs off the side. He made his way over to the desk where his laptop sat, flipping it open with a slight groan. The harsh light from the screen burned his eyes as it powered up, but he was too focused on his task to mind. When it finally came to life, he opened his database and quickly pulled up the search bar. He typed in Sam Felder’s name, his fingers moving with practiced speed.

The results popped up almost immediately.

Sam Felder—born in Philadelphia, moved to Knoxville, Tennessee, in the late 2000s. Homeowner. A single criminal charge in 2012, which had been dropped. DUI. Interesting. Thomas clicked on the details, scrolling through the file, noting the lack of any serious charges. The rest was mundane. Sam had one older brother, and his parents lived nearby. The file was thin—there wasn’t much else to go on.

But there was one more detail: Sam had lived with a girl named Linda Bryant when he first moved to Knoxville. That’s where the trail stopped.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. Maybe Eden was right. Maybe Sam was just a harmless guy, living a quiet life, dealing with his own struggles. But something about him still didn’t sit right. The gut feeling lingered, gnawing at Thomas.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, thinking about his own life. The solitude he maintained. The workload that kept him straight-laced, on track. If he wasn’t so driven, so controlled, he knew he’d fall apart, become volatile. It was the only way to survive in his line of work. His own breakdowns came in flashes, when no one was around to see.

If Sam was expressing his frustration through words, like Eden had said, then Thomas suspected the man was closer to a breaking point than anyone realized.

He remembered Eden saying she dismissed Sam as just a friend. The thought made Thomas relax a little more. If Eden had already put him in that box, then maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about after all. She had a way of reading people, and if she didn’t see anything beyond that, then perhaps he was right to not let his instincts push him too hard. It didn’t mean he could entirely let his guard down, but for now, it eased some of the tension in his chest. Maybe Eden was right. Maybe Sam wasn’t a threat.

Thomas’s leg began to shake, an anxious, urgent feeling stirring in his chest. He pulled out a small, discreet device from his jacket pocket—a prompter that allowed him to hack into someone’s cellphone microphone. He tapped into Eden’s IP address without hesitation, his fingers moving quickly. The ease of it all made him think he should suggest she get a VPN, though part of him knew that wasn’t the issue.

He listened intently, waiting for any sound that would confirm she was still awake. There couldn’t be much going on at this hour—she was probably sleeping. But then, he heard it. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. It was unmistakable. She was texting.

His chest tightened as he bit his lip, fighting the urge to stop. He typed a few more commands into the prompter, granting himself visible access to her phone’s interface. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her messaging a contact named Braxton. Curiosity clawed at him, but he didn’t want to feel like an intruder. Still, his eyes were glued to the screen as he saw her typing away about the dinner they’d had together.

A knot twisted in Thomas’s stomach. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from reading the words she was sending. A part of him bristled with discomfort—did he really want to know what she was saying about him? But another part, a more vulnerable part, ached with the desire to find out. Maybe there were things about himself he could fix, things he could change to make the impression he left on her better.

He peeked at the screen, heart pounding as the conversation between Eden and Braxton unfolded before him.

Eden: He was so sweet. You’ll never guess where he took me. Margaritas!

Braxton: That’s your favorite spot for pizza, isn’t it? Kinda weird how he knew that.

Eden: It’s not weird. I post about it all the time. Shows he pays attention. Even more special that he’s Italian and brought me to an American Italian place, which really only serves blasphemy to guys like him.

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh loudly at that text. The sound startled Mini, who perked up from the foot of the bed. Thomas turned to her apologetically. “Sorry, girl,” he muttered before returning to the screen.

Braxton: I guess so. Little fast though. You literally met him yesterday.

Eden: What’s that even mean? It was just dinner. I mean we did talk about some stuff like Sam.

Braxton: You brought up Sam???

Eden: He friggin’ texted me in the middle of it, and I checked it. Tom asked, so I answered. Nothing crazy. He thinks Sam’s a serial killer in the making.

Braxton: I said the same thing, lol.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. Whoever this Braxton guy was, he clearly had his head on straight. He could appreciate that.

Eden: Can you hear me rolling my eyes? Everyone goes through s**t, Brax, not everyone is a serial killer.

Braxton: So, are you gonna see him again?

Eden: I want to. He seemed a little off though. I wonder if I said something that made him uncomfortable.

Thomas smiled at that last text, relishing in the fact that Eden cared about how he thought of her. It was a small detail, but it told him more than any other observation he had made tonight. She wasn’t just dismissing him as a one-time interaction—there was something more there, something worth pursuing.

Thomas picked up his laptop and carried it over to the bed with him, settling onto his side as he continued to watch Eden’s messages unfold on the screen. His fingers hovered over the keys as his eyes scanned each word she sent. The connection between them, even in this small moment, felt more intense than it should have.

At one point, Eden backed out of the conversation, pulling up her list of text messages. Thomas’s eyes narrowed as he saw the unread message from Sam that had been sent during dinner. She hadn’t even opened it yet.

The notification sat there, a flashing reminder of the relationship she had with Sam. Thomas paused, a thought crossing his mind. Was she waiting for the right moment to address it? Or had she already made up her mind about what Sam’s words meant? He couldn’t help but wonder how much Sam’s influence still hung over her, even after the time they spent together.

Eden lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind replaying the moments from dinner. She remembered the look on Thomas’s face throughout the evening, wondering if the underwhelming Italian food had been too much of a disappointment for him. She hoped it hadn’t been—though deep down, she knew it wasn’t the food that had occupied his thoughts.

Her mind drifted to the conversation about Sam. She couldn’t help but wonder if she should have dodged it entirely. She’d talked about him so casually, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Thomas had only brought it up because it was what he thought she wanted to talk about. If he was actually interested in her, maybe mentioning another guy wasn’t the best move. Eden winced at the thought. It seemed like such a stupid mistake now. She flipped over, burying her face into the pillow, hoping to block out the nagging voice in her head.

Eden picked her head up from the pillow and let out a deep breath. She glanced around the room, her mind still racing before muttering to herself, “I’ll fix it.”

Thomas, after hearing Eden’s soft words through his laptop, smiled at the screen, a small, knowing expression crossing his face. It was subtle, but it was enough to confirm that she wasn’t oblivious to the dynamics between them. He could hear the resolve in her voice.

His eyes drooped, the sleepiness finally settling in as the exhaustion from the day caught up to him. With a sigh, he closed the laptop, setting it carefully on the nightstand beside him. He leaned back into his pillow, his thoughts slowly drifting into the haze of sleep he’d been itching for.