I don't run.
Not unless I want someone to think I'm scared, which I'm not. Not even now.
I moved with quiet steps and a smooth pace. One hand instinctively brushed the edge of my hoodie, where I keep a tiny blade tucked into the pockets. Not because I need it. Just because it's comforting to know it's there.
The figure disappeared into the woods maybe thirty seconds ago with ease. Like the person knew I was following. They wanted to be seen. That much is obvious.
This wasn't a mistake.
This was bait.
And like a total genius, I bit.
The party noise faded behind me with every step I took. Somewhere back there, Lani is probably still shouting about the guy in the sock. I should care more. But I'm more focused about what is in front of me. I'm hyper-aware of everything, the branches that snapped in the distance, the shift of shadows, the soft crunch of leaves under boots that aren't mine.
I pressed my back to a tree and waited for about ten seconds or fifteen, I didn't count.
Still nothing.
Then, there was movement.
Just at my right hand side.
I slipped towards it low and controlled. Spy 101. Whoever's out here didn't expect me to actually follow them. That's their first mistake.
I caught a glimpse, just a black hoodie and the glint of something metallic on their wrist. Then they're gone again. Gone like they knew how to vanish.
Agency-level gone.
Which means one thing: this wasn't some bored college kid being creepy.
This was a message.
I'm not alone in this.
And that pisses me off more than it scares me.
"Following shadows now?"
The voice hits me before the footsteps do.
I don't flinch, I turned slowly.
Matteo Vanelli stood there about ten feet behind me, arms crossed, wearing that same unreadable look he always has, like he's constantly weighing the risk of telling the truth.
I straightened. "You have a hobby of appearing in the exact wrong places at the exact wrong times?"
"Depends on your definition of wrong," he says.
"I saw someone. Hoodie, tall, male build. He was tracking me."
"Or luring you," Matteo says, already scanning the tree line.
I narrow my eyes. "You're not surprised."
"I'm not."
"Want to explain why?"
"No."
Classic.
I took a step closer, my boots crunched the leaves between us. "Every time something weird happens, you show up. First my dorm, then the student union, now the lake party. Either you've got incredible timing, or you're watching me."
His jaw tightened slightly. It's the smallest shift, but I catch it.
"I'm not watching you," he says.
"Right. Just casually stalking the woods for fun?"
Matteo looks past me, like he's expecting someone else to pop out of the trees. "You're not the only one digging into something dangerous."
Now there's total silence between us.
His eyes lock on mine, sharper now.
I crossed my arms. "So what's your angle, Vanelli? You've clearly got agency training, or something close. You've been intercepting things too much, you're everywhere I go.
Matteo doesn't answer. Instead, he takes a step toward me. He's taller than I remember. Or maybe it just feels that way because he's finally letting the calm slip from his face.
"This whole thing," he says, quieter now, "is bigger than what you think. You think they gave you the full story? You're a rookie, Sam.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"But you're hiding something."
He doesn't deny that.
And for some reason, that's worse.
I exhaled sharply, trying to clear the heat rising in my chest. Not fear. Just frustration. At him. At RedHalo. At myself, because the lines between mission and mistake are officially blurring.
He moves again, slower this time. Closer.
"You should pull back," he says. "Let it go before you get pulled under."
I laugh, not because it's funny. Just because it's too late for that.
"I don't back off," I tell him. "Especially not when someone tells me to."
Matteo sighs, runs a hand through his hair. For a second, he looked like he wants to say more. Maybe even tell me everything.
But then something flickers in the trees again, just movement, almost nothing, and he shifts. All acting spy again.
"I have to go," he says.
I grab his wrist before he could disappear.
"Matteo."
He looks down at my hand, then up at me.
"If you know something that can help me," I say, "you need to stop dancing around it. Because I don't have time to guess anymore. And I don't want to wake up one day and realize I could've stopped this if I'd just pushed harder."
He studied me. Like really studied me.
And then he says the last thing I expect:
"You're better than they said you'd be."
Before I can ask who they are, he's gone.
Melted back into the shadows like he was never there.
Back in my dorm, I open the RedHalo interface.
Still no new files.
Still nothing from control.
Except now, I know for sure, I'm not the only one out here chasing ghosts.
Someone's manipulating this.
Maybe the agency.
Maybe the brothers.
Or maybe both.
Either way, lines are getting crossed.
And I'm done playing it safe.