Chapter 6: The Disappearance
1505 Words
The morning light barely warmed the Collins estate when the news hit.
Russel stood frozen in front of the command center screen.
"Subject Seraphina Nova Grey is missing. Last seen near Gate 3 at 3:42 AM. Surveillance: disabled. Cause: Unknown. Clues: None."
A photo of her last known image appeared—a side profile in grainy black and white. No fear on her face. Just a quiet look, like she was waiting.
“She walked away,” Russel muttered. “On purpose.”
Mr. Collins entered the room, eyes bloodshot. “We think it was a kidnapping. The Velacruz Syndicate may want leverage.”
“No,” Russel said sharply. This was planned. She staged it.”
Collins narrowed his eyes. “Why would she do that?”
Russel hesitated. Because the only answer that made sense was the one no one wanted to hear:
Because she was working on both sides.
Meanwhile, Ara stood silently on the balcony overlooking the estate gardens, the wind playing with her loose hair. Her eyes were fixed on the empty driveway. She hadn’t spoken a word since the announcement.
Russel approached slowly. “She’s gone.”
Ara didn’t turn. “She’s not gone. She’s hiding.”
“You believe that too?”
“I believe she never really left,” she said. “She was always part shadow.”
Russel stood beside her. “We have a few leads. I’ll be looking into them with Command.”
“I want to come.”
Russel turned. “No.”
“Don’t you dare,” Ara said firmly. This is my life too. She targeted me. Hurt me. Lied to both of us. I want answers. And I want to see her face when I get them.”
Russel didn’t argue. He saw it in her eyes—the same fire he feared would get her killed, now turned into something sharper. Purpose.
“Then stay close,” he said. “No mistakes.”
Ara nodded.
They started their search with the car Seraphina arrived in—the VulcanTech vehicle. A black van.
Russel located a traffic surveillance unit on the outskirts of town. The footage showed the van parked outside a known Velacruz hangout near the port... three days ago. But Seraphina didn’t get out.
Instead, a woman in a scarf and sunglasses exited the driver’s side and vanished into a side alley.
Ara squinted at the monitor. “That’s her walk.”
“Even in disguise,” Russel agreed.
They followed the trail to a rundown building with a rusted door. It looked abandoned.
Inside, they found nothing—except a folded note taped under a drawer:
"Stop digging. Or she’ll be the next one missing."
Ara stepped back. “So now it’s threats again.”
Russel pocketed the note. “They’re not just threats anymore. This is a challenge.”
And he planned to answer it. Later that night, Russel returned to the estate’s war room and reviewed a secret communication log sent through encrypted burner phones.
One number stood out. A message sent at 2:50 AM—exactly 50 minutes before Seraphina’s disappearance.
The message read: "Phase shift activated. Exfil on standby. No casualties."
It was signed with a codename:
NOVA.
Russel’s stomach turned.
She named her exit after herself.
The next day, Ara came home from school early. Her bodyguard escort was pulled last minute. She didn’t argue.
She found Russel in the training room, bruised and angry.
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
Russel turned, panting. “What now?”
“I think… I think I know where she’s going next.”
He paused.
“She told me once,” Ara continued. Back when she was pretending to be your girlfriend. She said if she ever needed to disappear, she’d go where no one wanted to follow her.”
“Which is?”
Ara swallowed. “Her father’s grave. Southwood Cemetery.”
Russel grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go.”
The graveyard was silent and damp. Moss crawled over headstones. Fog curled like fingers along the cobbled path.
They moved slowly between the rows until they reached the farthest end.
A fresh rose lay on a marble headstone:
DARREN GREY, 1969–2010.
“Her father,” Ara whispered.
Then Russel spotted it.
A glint.
A lens.
He grabbed Ara’s hand and yanked her back just as a dart hit the ground where she’d stood.
“MOVE!” he shouted.
They ran, dodging shadows. Someone was there.
Waiting.
They ducked behind a statue.
Another dart flew past.
Russel tackled the figure behind the tree.
It wasn’t Seraphina.
But it was someone dressed like her.
A decoy.
He tore the mask off.
A man. Late 20s. Tattoo on his neck: VS.
Velacruz Syndicate.
Ara’s eyes widened. “We were lured here.”
Russel stood slowly. “She’s three steps ahead. Again.”
But as they turned to leave, another message was found—this one carved into the headstone itself:
“You still don’t see the real game.”
Ara’s hand trembled. “She’s still watching us.”
Russel clenched his fists.
And now, he was done playing.The fog hadn’t lifted since the cemetery incident, and neither had Russel’s thoughts. Everything about Seraphina’s disappearance was designed to confuse them. The timing, the setup, the message carved into her father’s tombstone—it wasn’t random. It was precise.
“She’s not just playing with us,” Russel muttered as he leaned against the estate’s library window. “She’s proving something.”
Ara sat cross-legged on the couch behind him, flipping through Seraphina’s old sketchbook, the only personal item she’d left behind. Her fingers traced a drawing of a swan—bloody at the neck.
“She wants us scared,” Ara said quietly. “But she also wants to be understood.”
Russel turned. “You think she’s trying to tell us something?”
“She’s not the type to leave pieces behind without a reason.”
He moved closer. “Then what’s the message?”
Ara looked up, her dark eyes unreadable. “That she’s not done yet.”
That evening, Russel met with Mr. Collins in the underground command center. On the screen was a map of the nearby regions, with heat signatures traced across the border towns.
“The Velacruz Syndicate is on the move,” Collins said. A few of our informants went dark near the old textile mill. I’m sending a team.”
“I’ll go too,” Russel volunteered immediately.
“No,” Collins said. “We need you here." With Ara.”
Russel bristled. “I can protect her and track Seraphina.”
Collins walked closer, his voice low. “You’re not just protecting my daughter anymore. You’re the only one she trusts. That makes you more valuable than any weapon I’ve got.”
Russel swallowed hard.
He wasn’t sure what weighed heavier—Ara’s safety, or the burden of being the one person she relied on.
Later that night, Ara and Russel sat outside under the veranda’s hanging lights. She handed him a mug of warm tea.
“She used to sit here,” Ara said. Right there on that bench. Every night after dinner.”
Russel looked at the empty spot. “Pretending to be part of our lives.”
“Or maybe trying to figure out if she wanted one,” Ara replied softly.
There was a pause.
“I don’t think she ever really hated me,” Ara admitted. Not really. She envied me, maybe. Or pitied me. But I think she wanted something from you more than anything else.”
Russel met her eyes. “What?”
“Love.”
He looked away, the steam rising from his tea now seeming suffocating.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel cornered,” Ara added. “I just… I hate that she got to you first.”
Russel put down his mug and faced her.
“She didn’t get to me first,” he said. “She just got to me when I was weakest.”
Their eyes locked.
And for once, the silence between them felt like clarity, not confusion.
A sudden knock interrupted them.
One of the guards entered, holding up a torn piece of paper. “Found this in the fountain, sir.”
Russel took it, recognizing the handwriting immediately.
Seraphina’s.
“Twelve days to the reckoning. If you want answers, come alone. Ara stays behind.”
Beneath it, a location was scribbled: The Red Chamber, downtown San Ricardo. Midnight.
Ara read over his shoulder, her face hardening. “You’re not going without me.”
Russel shook his head. “She asked for me. Alone.”
“She’s a liar. She’ll kill you.”
“I know,” he said. “But I have to know why.”
Ara grabbed his hand. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
Russel squeezed her hand back. “I will. I have to.”
And with that, the countdown had begun.
- Writer
