Part 44
(Alex's POV)
From the hill behind the safe house, Alex could see everything.
The faint orange glow of a lantern, the shadows moving through the open window, the trembling shape of Leah holding the flowers.
She smiled faintly.
Right on cue.
Adrian's paranoia had been growing for days.
All it had needed was a push — a symbol. Something delicate. Familiar.
Something that once meant comfort.
The sunflower had been perfect.
A reminder of what Alex gave him first.
She watched through the lens as Leah stood frozen, fingers shaking around the stem.
It was beautiful, the symmetry of it — fear blooming exactly where Alex had planted trust.
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She lowered the binoculars, checking her small receiver.
The transmitter in the house was still active; she could hear the faint hum of electricity, the creak of footsteps, a muffled whisper as Leah called Adrian's name.
Alex leaned back against the tree trunk and closed her eyes.
For a moment, she let herself imagine being inside that house again — sitting beside Adrian, hearing him breathe.
He'd always been so calm around her once. So trusting.
Then she remembered the way he'd looked at Leah in the press photos — that subtle warmth that used to belong to her.
It burned in her chest like acid.
"You shouldn't have replaced me," she whispered.
Her hand brushed over the camera bag beside her.
Inside it were more flowers. More ways to remind him she was still here.
Alex wasn't cruel — not in her mind.
She was careful.
Everything she did had reason, precision, love.
Adrian just needed to see that Leah wasn't safe for him.
That no one was, except her.
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The receiver crackled suddenly — a faint male voice from inside the house:
"Leah… where did you get that?"
Alex's smile widened.
The fracture had finally opened.
"Good boy," she murmured, eyes glittering in the dark.
She stayed there all night, watching, listening — patient as the jungle itself.