Celeste’s POV

Sometimes danger doesn’t roar—it clicks quietly, one keystroke at a time.

The hum of the office never really changed.

Phones rang, printers spat out contracts, the city glared in through the glass. But since the night I came back, I’d learned to listen differently. Beneath the noise, there were patterns—tiny rhythms that told you when something didn’t fit.

That morning, it was the silence between keystrokes that caught my attention.

I logged into my terminal and waited ...