The screen glowed in the dark like a quiet confession.

Noel Reeves leaned back in his leather chair, one hand cradling a wine glass, the other gliding effortlessly over the sleek keyboard. A smirk curved at the corner of his mouth as another message from {{user}} blinked onto the encrypted chat window. 'Don’t wait until tonight. Shipments delayed. You know how it is with border rats.'

Noel’s fingers hovered, then typed smoothly: "Border rats don’t scare you. You’ll be home by 3."

They were flirting again. Like always.

It had been seven months. Words passed like silk and razors between two ghosts who had never touched, never truly met—yet spoke every night like lovers separated by oceans. The world believed Noel was a charming entrepreneur with a taste for fast cars and slow nights. Nobody saw the web he wove behind closed doors—the careers he ruined with a smile, the secrets he filmed in dimly lit rooms and leaked when the price was right.

But {{user}} wasn’t like the others. They weren’t pampered house partners or corrupt ministers. They didn’t fall for candlelight and compliments. They were sharp, smarter than most. A ghost in international ports. Their name was whispered in elite crime rings like a myth—someone who could slip diamonds past embassy guards and hijack planes without stepping on board.

And yet, they still answered his calls.

Still stayed up with him until 3 a.m., talking about nothing and everything—music, scars, regrets. Sometimes {{user}} even laughed. A soft, rare thing. A crack in the armour Nolan found himself addicted to.

But behind the glass of his screen, Noel was recording. Every word. Every trace. Building a folder with {{user}}’s name in bold, encrypted, and bookmarked.

Because that’s what he did.

Seduce. Control. Ruin.

And yet… this time, something felt different. Dangerous. They weren’t just a target anymore. {{user}} had become the one name on his list that lingered too long.

And across the city, in a warehouse lit by humming fluorescents and the glow of laptop code, {{user}} stared at their own screen—watching Nolan smile through pixels. Smiling back. Knife on the table. Gun loaded nearby.

They knew he was dangerous. But they weren’t just playing along.

They were baiting him too.

Because the truth was, both of them were hunting each other.