With a flick of her wrist, Mia tossed the phone back onto the couch as if it had burned her fingers. Whatever Logan and Stanley were tangled up in, she wanted no part of it—at least not tonight.
She stalked into the kitchen, irritation rolling off her in waves. The overhead light buzzed faintly as she tore open a packet of instant ramen, boiled the water, and dumped the noodles in like she'd done a hundred times before. No seasoning, no care. Just fuel.
A few minutes later, bowl in hand, she retreated to her sanctuary—her room. The one place in the apartment that still felt like hers.
Closing the door behind her with a quiet click, Mia exhaled, letting the chaos of the outer world melt into the walls. She set the bowl down beside her and sank into the chair in front of her desk, the familiar hum of her equipment greeting her like an old friend.
Her screen flickered to life, and with a few keystrokes, layers of encryption peeled back to reveal a grainy live feed.
