Dominic’s POV

For two weeks, I’ve been tracing this ghost through firewalls and dark-net dead ends. Whoever they are, they know too much, about Elia, about Z-Core, even about me.

Every message arrives like a whisper from someone who’s been inside my head but tonight, I finally find the crack.

I’m in my home office, lights dimmed, only the soft hum of the computer breaking the quiet. I rerun the trace through a forensic relay, same origin as the last four messages, somewhere in ...