Part 76
(Alex's POV)
The night was quiet — too quiet. The kind of silence that scraped against Alex's nerves.
She sat in front of her computer, one hand curled around a cup of cold coffee, eyes darting between tabs. Her searches had become almost mechanical now — endless refreshes, usernames, small leads that led nowhere.
Then her screen flashed.
A new notification from one of the fan forums she still haunted under an old alias.
Thread title:
"Possible Adrian Sighting?!"
Her pulse jumped.
She clicked it before she could breathe.
There it was.
A photo, slightly blurred, taken from across a café counter.
A man in a black mask, a simple cap.
But even through the blur, she knew that profile — the angle of the jaw, the shape of his hands as he passed a drink across the counter.
She leaned forward slowly, the edges of the world narrowing until all that existed was him.
"Looks like a barista somewhere in the countryside,"
"Could it be him?"
"Same eyes!"
Alex's fingers trembled as she scrolled through the comments. Her heart was beating so fast it almost made her dizzy.
He's alive.
He's out there.
A laugh — soft, breathless — escaped her lips. It didn't sound sane.
She pressed her palm against her mouth, eyes burning, and whispered, "You really thought you could disappear."
Her gaze flicked to the small details in the photo — the name of the shop faintly printed on a cup, the color of the curtains, the background blur of the hill outside the window.
To anyone else, useless.
To her, clues.
Alex zoomed in, her mind already mapping possibilities — regions, local cafés, weather patterns.
She'd find it. She always did.
Her reflection in the screen was pale and sharp, her smile too still.
"You look good," she whispered to the photo. "Hiding suits you."
A pause.
"But I'm coming."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
Searches, map coordinates, bus schedules, local forums.
Each click was precise, obsessive, patient.
It wasn't excitement anymore — it was possession, refined into focus.
By dawn, she plans to have a list.A location.A direction.
The first light crept through her window, unwanted and pale. Alex closed her laptop slowly, as if sealing a promise, and let the silence settle around her. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper—rehearsed, inevitable.
"I will see you soon, Adrian."