Elena had the apartment to herself, a stack of expo flyers in one hand and a tape dispenser in the other. Without Fighter at the gym or Raul out running errands, the living room felt hollow. She pressed a flyer to the fridge door: "Elena Faulkner: City Fractures — Opening [Date]. Free cheese cubes." Her handwriting gave it a touch of elegance, but doubt lingered as she reached for more tape.
The drawer yielded an old sketchbook instead — cover frayed, spine cracked from neglect. Curiosity tugged it open. The first page stopped her cold: a child's angry pencil scribble of a snarling face, Bulgarian words scratched below — "Домът гори, но ние сме живи" ("The house burns, but we're alive"). Echo from before the Faulkners.
She crushed it without thinking — that familiar perfectionist snap, paper shredding in her fist. Into the trash, hands unsteady for a beat.
Her phone pinged on the counter. An email: "Sister Profile Opportunity? — Delaney Schulz, Beacon Tribune." The preview line twisted: "Elena — champ's grounding force? Exclusive on your art in his shadow..."
Instinct screamed no. Deleted before reading more.
Fighter's PO box mail sat untouched nearby — usual mix of fan notes and junk. On impulse, she sifted through: bills, stickers, then a crisp envelope. Beacon Tribune. Attn: Elena Faulkner. Feature Request — Delaney Schulz. Same name. Polite letterhead, but gut churned — too pointed, too soon after the email.
Spam, she decided. Shredded it with the sketch, no second glance.
Double‑lock clicked home — bolt, chain, test the knob. Breath eased only then. She smoothed her shirt as keys jangled outside.
A few nights later, departure hit quiet under drizzle. Delaney crouched low in her car two blocks down, binoculars trained on the stoop, night shadows cloaking her. She'd tailed them all day — Fighter's gym exit, diner stop, now this. Motion flickered.
Fighter emerged first, hoodie up, duffel slung heavy over one shoulder, long hair escaping messy bun. Raul followed, patched leather jacket zipped, canvas bag and battered suitcase in tow. Plane tickets flashed white in Raul's hand under porch light — CDG visible even from distance. They loaded the trunk quiet, efficient: no big goodbyes, just nods and low words. Elena's silhouette waved brief from doorway before door clicked shut.
Delaney's pulse quickened. France? Scoop gold : "Champ Flees Spotlight: Mystery Euro Escape with Punk Pal." Beacon would devour viral flight paths, roommate rift speculation. But thumb hovered over recorder — paused.
No. Bigger prey now. Fighter gone, Raul too — Elena solo. No guards, no trio buffer. Expo loomed; artist vulnerable, isolated. Attack vector clear.
Car pulled away, taillights fading toward airport. Delaney lowered binoculars, smile thin in dark. Shift targets ; Elena first, unhindered. The real story waited home alone.