Same night.
The warm bath helped calm her body, but not her thoughts.
No amount of steam could wash away the images she'd seen—or the ones she kept imagining.
Her mind was relentless, always wondering, always searching.
What did he see in those dreams that made him scream like that?
Evah hated her curiosity sometimes.
But it never listened.
It wouldn't stop until it found the answer.
And this time, she knew…
He would never tell her.
The bathroom mirror had fogged over, reflecting her faint outline.
Her own blurry face stared back, haunted by what she'd witnessed.
The memory flickered again—so fresh, it refused to fade.
She wrapped a towel over her hair and stepped out, her white bathrobe soft against her skin.
A sigh escaped her lips.
The weariness wasn't physical anymore—it was mental.
Her body had rested.
Her mind hadn't stopped.
Evah collapsed onto the bed face-first, groaning into the soft sheets.
Maybe the internet had something.
Anything.
Even if she didn't want to know—she couldn't help herself anymore.
Just one, she told herself.
Just one clue.
One piece of the truth.
Then I'll stop. I promise.
She grabbed her laptop and flipped it open.
Her fingers hovered above the keys, hesitating only for a moment before they began typing rapidly—like she was racing herself.
The search window blinked back at her, cursor waiting.
She activated her secure browser and her digital identity shuffler.
He can't find out I'm doing this.
He'd be angry.
Her chest tightened.
She wasn't sure what terrified her more—Erion's anger, or the truth she might uncover.
The soft hum of her laptop fan as she hesitates.
Her curiosity kept clawing at her—loud, nagging, persistent.
Like it always was.
She typed it in.
Erion McQuaide.
Enter.
The screen flashed.
A spinning wheel.
Then—
No results found.
"What?" she whispered.
That's impossible.
She stared in disbelief.
There had to be something.
Everyone had a trace online.
Evah bit her lip.
Then she reached for a flash drive from the drawer.
She plugged in a keycard—an encrypted drive that unlocked advanced access protocols.
It activated her hidden systems, granting her deep web clearance while wiping all traces of her digital footprint.
Her screen shifted to a black interface, minimal and cold.
This wasn't a regular search engine.
This one could break past firewalls, comb through classified archives, and access data hidden behind every layer of the web—guarded or not, private or not.
Her heart beat faster.
Typing his name again suddenly felt… illegal.
She hesitated.
Just one article. Just one case file.
Anything to tell me what happened to him.
Just one.
The sting of guilt as her finger hovers over the Enter key.
So close.
Then—
"Don't you think it's rude to investigate the person who sheltered you, Bunny?"