Page 40 of Prey

"I don’t..."

"Grey." His tone doesn’t rise. It doesn’t have to. "Open it."

I do, inbox, two new messages flagged high priority. The first is from Security Oversight: Executive safety notice – patterns of concern. The second is from HR: Follow-up re: safety notice / employee support.

My vision tunnel-narrows. I click the first.

Team, the email begins. During a routine review of executive floor surveillance, we identified concerning patterns of behavior from an employee. In order to promote safety and transparency, we are sharing anonymized examples and reminding everyone of appropriate boundaries with senior leadership.

There’s a link. View incident summary and selected footage.

My hand hesitates on the trackpad.

Cain’s voice is steady. "You don’t have to watch it."

"I do," I say, "besides they all watched it."

He doesn’t argue. The browser opens a company portal. Incident: Executive safety – file package. A video thumbnail loads: hallway, timestamp, blurred faces.

I hit play. The first clip is the hallway outside his office. Camera 15. I know it. I’ve lived in it. Me, at midnight, standing in front of his door, facing the wood. My hands at my sides. Too still. The footage zooms in. My forehead touches the doorframe. My lips move. There’s no sound.

The second clip: lobby. Camera 12. Me in the corner, at 11:48 PM, staring at the elevator instead of the clock. The caption reads: Employee loitering in common area long after hours.

The third: interior feed from his office. Grainy and dark. My silhouette near his desk. The cut is brutal they slice out the lead-up, the context, the carefulness. They jump straight from me standing in his space to me on his desk, shirt off, back arched.

They blur my face but they don’t blur my body. They pause me mid-movement. Hand halfway down my stomach. Frozen there like a confession.

My stomach lurches. "Stop," I whisper, but the video keeps going.

Caption: Employee entering executive office after hours without clear authorization; engaging in explicit behavior in proximity to executive’s workspace.

The summary text appears alongside the video.

Over several months, the subject appears repeatedly outside Mr. Micheals’ office after hours, loiters in common areas, and enters executive spaces without authorization. Given Mr. Micheals’ position and visibility, this pattern raises serious concerns about his safety and the integrity of our workplace.

We remind all staff that stalking, harassment, and boundary violations will not be tolerated.

They never use my name. They don’t have to. Someone behind me gasps softly. Another laughs under their breath and then cuts it off, too late.

"Jesus," someone murmurs. "I heard he broke into Mr. Micheals apartment, too."

My lungs forget how to work. The world tilts. I see myself on the screen, paused mid-masturbation in Cain’s office, and realize that the worst thing I’ve ever done is now a training clip on the company portal. My cursor shakes. I click the tab closed like it will erase what everyone saw; it doesn’t matter; the image is already burned into their vision.

HR’s email sits below it, polite and poisonous.

Grey, it says. We’d like to invite you to a confidential conversation about recent events and how we can support you and ensure safety for all parties.

Support, safety, confidential, my face is literally all over the company’s portal...

Cain’s voice cuts through the noise. "Stand up."

I blink. "What?"

His expression is calm and neutral; his eyes are not. "Stand up," he repeats. "Now."

My legs obey before I can argue. He steps closer, takes my wrist, not gently, not cruelly. Firm enough that the whole floor sees it.

"That’s him," someone whispers again, this time in a different tone. Less gleeful. More afraid.