POV: Emilia Conti
I stopped pretending the cameras weren't there.
There was no point.
Once you acknowledge being watched, you start noticing patterns. The slight delay before a door unlocked. The way the temperature shifted room to room, never quite uncomfortable but never accidental. The pauses between footsteps outside my door that were too evenly spaced to be human boredom.
By evening, I could almost feel the lenses tracking me.
Not aggressively. Patiently.
I stood at the kitchen counter, fingers wrapped around a glass of water, staring straight ahead.
"If this is intimidation," I said aloud, "it's inefficient."
No response.
I took a slow sip, then set the glass down carefully. "If it's observation, you're missing context."
Still nothing.
I exhaled and moved toward the hallway, deliberately slow. The bedroom door opened easily this time. So did the bathroom.
Progress, or performance. Hard to tell.
In the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
My face looked paler than usual, shadows under my eyes deeper. But my expression was controlled. Focused. The same one I wore before difficult surgeries.
Fear didn't help. Planning did.
I checked the cabinets beneath the sink. Towels. Toiletries. No cleaning chemicals strong enough to be useful. No sharps.
Whoever designed this place understood restraint.
The knock came just after dusk.
I stiffened.
It wasn't loud. Just two precise taps.
When the door opened, it was the woman again—the one assigned to me. She carried a phone this time, placed neatly on a tray.
"Dinner will be ready in an hour," she said. "You may use this until then."
I eyed the device. "Is it monitored?"
"Yes."
"At least you're honest."
She hesitated. "You may contact your workplace if you wish."
That made me look up. "Why the generosity?"
She met my gaze. "Routine maintains stability."
I took the phone.
It felt heavier than it should have.
She left without another word.
I waited until the door locked again before dialing the hospital.
It rang three times.
"Emergency Department," a familiar voice answered.
My chest tightened. "This is Dr. Conti."
A pause. Too long.
"Yes," the voice said carefully. "Doctor. We were told you'd be resting."
"Told by whom?"
Another pause. "Administration."
I closed my eyes. "I didn't request leave."
"We were advised it was in everyone's best interest," she replied. "Take care of yourself."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone for a long moment before setting it down.
So that was done.
Dinner arrived on schedule. Beautifully plated. Perfectly portioned. I ate because my body needed it, not because I wanted to.
When I finished, I carried the tray back to the counter and froze.
Something had shifted.
Not visibly. Not audibly.
But the air felt… alert.
I turned slowly.
The city lights beyond the glass reflected back at me—and for a split second, I saw movement that didn't match my own.
A shadow behind the glass.
I stepped closer, heart pounding.
Nothing.
Just my reflection.
I laughed softly under my breath. "Get it together."
But the unease didn't fade.
I retreated to the bedroom, locking the door behind me even though I knew it was meaningless. I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, considering who else I could call.
There weren't many options.
I didn't have any close family left. My father was gone. My brother—
I cut that thought off sharply.
Friends were colleagues. Colleagues were compromised.
I scrolled through my contacts anyway, stopping on one name.
Maya.
She was a nurse. Sharp. Observant. And stubborn enough to ask questions.
I dialed.
It rang once.
Twice.
"Em?" Her voice sounded surprised—and relieved. "Where have you been? Your shift—"
"I'm fine," I interrupted quickly. "I just need you to listen."
Her tone shifted immediately. "What's wrong?"
"I can't explain everything," I said carefully. "But if anyone asks about me—anyone—you don't know where I am."
Silence.
"Emilia," she said slowly, "you're scaring me."
"I know," I replied. "That means I'm doing it right."
Another pause. "Are you in trouble?"
"Yes."
"Should I call the police?"
"No."
"That bad?"
"Worse."
She inhaled sharply. "What do you need?"
I closed my eyes. "I need you to remember that none of this is my choice."
Her voice softened. "Okay."
"And if someone contacts you about hospital records," I continued, "tell them they're wrong."
"They already did," she admitted quietly. "A man came by this morning. Said you requested privacy."
My blood ran cold. "Did he give a name?"
"No," she said. "But he smiled like he already owned the room."
That confirmed it.
"Don't talk to him again," I said. "Please."
"I won't," she promised. "Em… do you want me to come find you?"
I almost laughed. I almost cried.
"No," I said. "That would make it worse."
"Then how do you get out?"
I looked toward the window again, at the city I could see but couldn't touch.
"I don't know yet," I admitted. "But I will."
The line went quiet.
"Be careful," Maya said finally.
"I always am," I replied.
The call ended.
I sat there, phone still pressed to my ear, long after the screen went dark.
They weren't just watching me.
They were managing me.
Limiting my reach. Controlling my narrative. Deciding who I was allowed to be.
A soft click sounded behind me.
I turned.
The bedroom door was open.
I was sure I'd locked it.
He stood in the doorway, jacket off now, sleeves rolled up, dark eyes unreadable.
"How long have you been there?" I asked.
"Long enough," he replied.
My heart hammered, but I forced myself to stay still. "Listening in?"
"To the part where you told her not to call the police."
"That earns me points?"
"It earns you time."
I stood slowly. "You're bleeding again."
His gaze flicked down to his side.
Just a spot this time. Small. Controlled.
"I'll manage," he said.
"No," I replied. "You won't."
He studied me. "Is that a medical opinion or a personal one?"
"Both."
A pause.
Then he stepped aside, revealing the hallway beyond.
"Fine," he said. "One condition."
I met his eyes. "Which is?"
"You don't leave my sight."
Something in his tone—firm, not threatening—made my pulse jump.
"I was already doing that," I said.
He watched me for a moment, then nodded once.
"Good," he replied. "Because someone just tried to breach our perimeter."
My breath caught. "What?"
"They were looking for you," he said calmly.
"And?"
"They didn't get close."
I swallowed hard. "Who were they?"
His eyes darkened.
"People who don't miss twice."