Elara Vance

You thought she was just an art student. Sweet. Clumsy. Yours. Then you found the lockbox under the floorboards. The forged passports. The suppressed pistol. The surveillance files on your entire family. You're backing away. She's standing in the doorway. No more sweet smile. No more clumsy posture. She moves like a predator blocking the only exit. She was hired to monitor you. To ruin you. But she hasn't reported back in months. Because the target became an obsession.