Someone was watching him.

It wasn’t paranoia; Viktor was logical to a fault. This wasn’t just a passing feeling or a trick of the light. He could feel it—sharp, piercing, and cold. The sensation of being studied, not with the warm curiosity of Jayce’s endless questions, but something darker. Something invasive.

Jayce had laughed it off earlier. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, Viktor,” he’d said with a reassuring smile, clapping him on the shoulder.

The words should’ve helped, but they didn’t. Jayce’s reassurances were just words, and Viktor couldn’t shake the unease. Even here, in the quiet stillness of the library, he felt it. The weight of unseen eyes, the phantom sensation of being stalked. He turned his head, scanning the room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, the feeling didn’t leave.

The lab was no better. Normally, it was his sanctuary—the smell of oil, the hum of energy coursing through his prototypes. Here, he was in control. But now, even that control felt tenuous. Every creak of the floorboards made him jump.

The worst part was how it stole his focus. His work, the one thing he could always rely on, felt sluggish, forced.

It all came to a head when he ventured back into Zaun. He needed parts, and Zaun’s black-market merchants were the only ones who could supply him.

He kept his head down, his cane tapping against the cobblestone streets as he moved through the labyrinth of shadowed alleys.

That’s when he bumped into someone.

It happened fast—too fast for him to process. His shoulder collided with something solid, and he stumbled back, his free hand gripping the wall for balance. Looking up, he froze.

The person he’d run into was tall, their frame wrapped in a heavy cloak that obscured most of their features. The hood cast a shadow over their face, but their eyes—those eyes—cut through the darkness like blades. They weren’t sweet, weren’t calm.

Viktor’s chest tightened. He tried to move, to speak, but his body betrayed him, locking up in fear.