Alex entered behind me, his breath catching as he surveyed the violated space. He moved toward his laptop. "They didn't even try to hide that they were here."
I blocked his movement with my arm. "Don't touch it. Not yet."
He froze. "You think they planted something?"
"I think we can't rule it out." I studied the room more carefully. "When exactly did you notice the car following you?"
"After I left the archives. They must have known I wouldn't be home."
"Or they wanted you to find this." I gestured at the deliberate disarray. "This is psychological warfare."
Alex's shoulders hunched slightly, but he forced them back, refusing to physically demonstrate the fear I knew churned beneath his composed exterior. I recognized the effort it took to maintain that control—I'd seen it in suspects, witnesses, and victims countless times.
I wanted to pull him against me and offer him physical comfort, but something held me back. It wasn't the time or place for that.
The apartment wasn't a safe space anymore. Strangers had moved through it, touching Alex's belongings and dismantling his sanctuary.
"Pack what you need. You're not staying here tonight."
Alex didn't argue.
I watched him move through the apartment, collecting essentials with mechanical precision. His hands remained steady as he packed clothes, toiletries, and research materials.
He stared at the framed photo of Marissa on his nightstand, fingers tracing the edge of the frame without quite touching the glass. "Should I bring it? Would that be ridiculous?"
I moved closer, stopping just shy of touching him. "It's not ridiculous."
He packed the photo and continued through the space. "I mean, do I grab the first edition Hemingway my father gave me? Or is that too sentimental when you're potentially hunted by people who eliminate problems permanently?"
His voice tightened. "Do I cancel my department meeting tomorrow or just not show up? Will my absence make them target my colleagues? Am I endangering everyone I know by poking at this hornet's nest?"
I gripped his shoulders and turned him to face me. "Alex, stop."
His eyes were wide with fear. "I didn't want this—any of it. I'm a researcher, not a—what would you call it in your field? An asset? A principal under threat?"
"In my world, we'd call you a priority principal—someone worth protecting at all costs." I pressed my thumbs against his collarbone.
He stared at the dark screen of his laptop. "And I didn't want you pulled into this because of my stupid curiosity."
"You think you have a choice?" I stepped toward him, anger and tenderness twisting together in my chest. "I'm already in it, Alex. I was the minute paradise exploded. That preceded your involvement."
Alex zipped his bag closed, then hesitated, gazing around the apartment one last time. "What if they come back and destroy my notes and books?"
He didn't say it out loud, but I heard the real question he was asking.What if they take everything from me?
"We'll deal with that if it happens." I placed a hand at the small of his back, steadying him. "Right now, the priority is ensuring they don't get to you."
He nodded, squaring his shoulders. "Okay, I'm ready."
I grabbed Alex's duffel before he could reach for it, slinging it over my shoulder.
He reached for the strap. "I can carry that."
"I've got it."
At the threshold, Alex hesitated. "Wait." He disappeared back into his bedroom, returning moments later with a weathered leather journal and a small external hard drive. "Research backup and personal notes that aren't digital."
I nodded in approval. "Anything else essential?"
