Page 109 of Mine To Hunt

It’s unmistakably the shape of a woman’s body. Not a vague outline. Not a suggestion. A woman.

The curves are precise, the proportions careful, the posture deliberate. Shoulders soft, waist tapered, hips sculpted with almost unsettling attention to form, like whoever made it memorized the shape rather than imagined it.

I tilt my head. "That looks very realistic for abstract."

"It’s a study of form." He says.

Maddie squints. "That’s not form. That’s a whole woman."

"It’s anatomy practice." He replies, a little too quickly.

I cross my arms lightly, still looking at the sculpture on the screen, noticing the detail in the torso, the subtle carving along the collarbone, the careful shaping of the stomach like he took his time there.

"You studied very… thoroughly." I say.

Maddie snorts. "Research purposes, obviously."

"You two are impossible." He mutters. But he does not lower the phone right away.

For a second longer than needed, he keeps the sculpture in frame, like he is waiting. Watching. Me. Weird. Then he finally drops his hand.

We keep talking as the light outside slowly dims, shadows stretching longer across the walls, the flat growing quieter in that way it does before night fully settles in.

Eventually, Al glances at the time and stands up, brushing his hands together like he is reluctant but decides.

"I should go."

"You can stay a little longer." I offer.

He shakes his head. "No. Just keep the cameras on. Always. And call me if anything feels off."

"Al."

"I’m serious, Ree."

"I know."

He steps closer and hugs me again, tighter this time, his arms lingering just a second longer than necessary, like he is memorizing something.

"Good night."

"Good night, Iris."

When he leaves, the flat feels too still, the silence heavier than before, like his presence had been quietly filling the space without me realizing it.

I lock the door, walk back to the couch, and sit down, pulling my phone into my lap.

After a second of hesitation, I open the security app, curiosity nudging at me. If cameras are watching my flat now, I want to see what they see.

The live feed appears first. The room exactly as it looks in front of me. Same angle. Same lighting. Same quiet.

"Huh." I murmur softly.

I tap over to the recordings and scroll through a few clips from earlier. Nothing unusual. The technician working. Me walking past. Al adjusting a chair.

Just normal moments frozen from above. Then I see a clip from around lunchtime. I tap it.

The video shows me crossing the room toward the door when the bell rang. I watch myself leave the frame to grab the food.