Chapter 5 – The Blackout Hours Episode
907 Words
Sleep was impossible.
Adrian lay on the cold concrete floor of the safehouse, staring up at the cracked ceiling while the hum of Lyra’s console filled the air. Every time he closed his eyes, the senator’s lifeless face flashed in the dark behind his eyelids. Blood. The weight of it on his hands. The hollow echo of guilt gnawed at him, even though she swore it wasn’t his fault.
How could he be so sure?
He rolled over. Lyra was still awake, her face bathed in the pale glow of the holographic map. Her eyes flicked across the streams of data, focused, relentless, as though nothing else in the world mattered.
“You ever sleep?” Adrian muttered.
“Not when the Syndicate is involved.”
Her voice was calm, but her shoulders were rigid, her jaw clenched. She wasn’t as untouchable as she liked to pretend.
Adrian sat up, rubbing his face. “Tell me about the blackout.”
Lyra’s fingers froze over the console. “What about it?”
“You said the AI records every second of our lives. But in my feed, three hours vanish into thin air. How does that happen?”
Her eyes lifted to his. “Memory scrubbing. It’s a Syndicate tool. Illegal, impossible to get without deep connections. They can wipe you, overwrite you, even plant false memories that feel real. If they did this to you, then whatever happened in those three hours was worth rewriting.”
Adrian’s chest tightened. “So I could’ve… done it. I could’ve killed Vane and just forgotten.”
Lyra shook her head. “That’s not how it works. They wouldn’t erase if you were guilty. They’d broadcast your face to the city and let the AI fry you on the spot. No—someone needed you confused. Doubting yourself. That’s leverage.”
Her words cut deep. He wanted to believe her. But doubt was already festering inside him.
“Show me,” Adrian said. “I want to see the blackout.”
Lyra hesitated. “Adrian, you don’t—”
“Show me.”
Her jaw tightened, but she turned back to the console. The hologram flickered, zooming in on the red void. At first, it was nothing—just static, fractured signals, the AI’s blind spot.
Then, faintly, shapes emerged. Distorted images, like shattered reflections of reality. A streetlamp. A blurred doorway. A hand reaching out.
Adrian leaned forward, his pulse hammering. “That’s me.”
The feed glitched. The hand was yanked away, replaced by a flash of a face—sharp jaw, shadowed eyes—before dissolving into static again.
“Freeze it!” Adrian barked.
Lyra did. The image was warped, but clear enough. A man, masked, with a symbol burned faintly into the side of his neck.
A serpent swallowing its own tail.
Adrian’s stomach dropped. “The Syndicate.”
Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “So it’s true. They touched you directly.”
The hologram flickered again. This time, another figure appeared. A woman’s silhouette, her voice muffled but urgent: Run, Adrian. Don’t look back.
Adrian’s throat tightened. “Who is she?”
Lyra didn’t answer. She zoomed the feed again, enhancing the blurred outline. The image sharpened—just enough for Adrian’s breath to catch.
Her hair fell loose over her shoulders. Her eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.
It was Lyra.
Adrian stumbled back. His pulse spiked, nausea curling in his gut.
“No,” he whispered. “That’s— that’s you.”
Lyra froze. For a heartbeat, her mask slipped, and something raw flickered in her expression.
“Adrian, listen—”
“Don’t,” he snapped, backing away. His mind spun. Every suspicion he’d buried came clawing back. “You were there. The night of the murder. You told me to run.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what the hell it is!” His voice cracked in the empty station.
Lyra rose slowly, her hands out in a gesture of calm. “I wasn’t with them. I was trying to get you out. I couldn’t stop the frame, but I could save you. That’s why I came back.”
Adrian’s chest heaved. The room seemed smaller, darker. His entire body screamed to run, but his feet wouldn’t move.
“You should’ve told me,” he hissed. From the beginning. Instead, you let me trust you, when all along you were standing right there that night.”
Lyra’s gaze locked on his, steady and unwavering. “If I told you the truth, you’d never have believed me. But right now, you don’t have the luxury of doubt. "The Syndicate will keep coming, and if you waste time questioning me, you’re dead.”
Her words echoed, sharp as a blade. Adrian’s fists clenched.
Every part of him screamed to walk away, to leave her in this dark hole and never look back. But another part—quieter, colder—knew she was right.
He needed her.
Not because he trusted her.
But because without her, he had no chance at all.
The silence stretched between them, thick as smoke. Finally, Adrian spoke, his voice rough.
“Next time, you tell me everything. No more secrets. No more half-truths.”
Lyra inclined her head, her expression unreadable. “Deal.”
But in the back of Adrian’s mind, doubt lingered like poison. Because deals with devils always came at a price.
- Writer
