𝑹𝑬: 𝑪𝑶•𝑽𝑬𝑵•𝑰𝑺𝑻

“Covenist uncovered. Identified: T. Other parties: Unknown—location, et cetera.”

There was a long pause before the masked voice came back. “Secured: No threats. Covenist initiated.”

The unmasked voice replied, “Time?”

“Midnight. Date unknown. Wait.”

“Waiting. Dark.”

On that word, communication was through until the masked voice would make contact again.

Bones stared at his computer screen, unsure of what was next. Waiting for midnight felt like a death sentence. He'd been waiting, watching. He knew they were watching. He didn't care. He was not a bad guy if his sole purpose was to out those very people. There were others to watch, i.e., good people doing good under the guise of anonymity. No such thing in this world. Privacy was a privilege, therefore, Bones and the org he was contracted under, C.V.N., believed they were doing a service keeping an eye on potential threats, agitators, and those in-between, otherwise known as “covenists.”

Bones was to make contact with “T.” He felt weird about this, given everything. He had to wait, alas, keep watch. He felt sick, so he decided to turn in, let darkness take him. Tenébris was already fast asleep; his only relief was in knowing she could sleep after all was said and done. This was something he had not entirely coped with. But she did what they wanted—tapped the proverbial glass, creating a crack in everything. A crack not unlike a spider's web for it to break free. That part was C.V.N.’s blind spot. Not Bones’.

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