Chapter 16 – The Hunt
1421 Words
The storm had burned itself out by dawn, leaving the sky a pale wash of silver and ash.
The street outside was clean again, rainwater tracing the edges of the curb like nothing had happened.
But inside, the air still held the ghost of ozone and adrenaline.
The smell of a house that had nearly become a battlefield.
Rori stood at the kitchen sink, coffee mug warm in her hands, staring out at the quiet cul-de-sac. The house hummed faintly—different now. The heartbeat rhythm Kael had coded pulsed soft and low through the baseboards, comforting in its steadiness.
Her body ached in places she hadn’t realized could hurt. Her mind was quieter than it should’ve been. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was focus. Either way, she wasn’t breaking.
Ren sat at the table, cleaning his weapon in silence. His movements were methodical, almost meditative. Sandro was perched on the counter, still wearing last night’s bruises like badges, chewing toast that had gone cold half an hour ago.
Kael was at the console, sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on the code that now defined the house’s survival. His fingers moved fast but light, each keystroke deliberate.
“How bad is it?” Rori asked, not turning from the window.
Kael’s voice carried steady. “She’s out. I wiped the grid link and burned her proxy route.”
He paused, adjusted a line of code. “But she’ll rebuild. She’s got resources—servers, contractors, off-grid AI mirrors. She’ll need a day, maybe two, before she can see you again.”
Ren’s tone was clipped. “We won’t give her that long.”
Sandro gave a soft snort. “You say that like we’re going to march into the lion’s den with a handful of espresso and good intentions.”
Ren glanced up. “I don’t do intentions.”
Kael finished typing and looked over his shoulder. “He’s right. We can’t just wait. Maeve made it clear—she’s not chasing you anymore, Rori. She’s dismantling everything that makes you safe.”
Rori turned, leaning against the counter. “Then we stop playing defense.”
Sandro blinked. “And do what, bella? Build our own war machine?”
She didn’t smile. “No. Something better. We build a trap.”
Kael studied her, interest flickering behind his calm. “Tell me.”
She moved to the table, setting her mug down beside Ren’s disassembled weapon.
“Maeve thrives on access. On information. Every time she attacks, she leaves a thread—something human behind the code. We feed her what she wants, but on our terms.”
Ren leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “You want to bait her.”
“Yes.”
Kael’s tone was even. “With what?”
“Me,” Rori said simply.
The room went still.
Sandro broke the silence first. “That’s—how do I say this gently—insane?”
Ren’s voice was colder. “She’s not a target you can lure with emotion. She’s data-hungry. Ruthless. She’ll rip through you again the moment you open a line.”
“She already did,” Rori said. “But she didn’t expect me to live through it. That’s her weakness. She underestimates the human parts.”
Kael set his laptop aside and stood. “If you’re serious about this, we’ll need control nodes—dark net servers she doesn’t recognize. I can ghost your signature long enough to make it look like you’re using the same home network. When she traces it, she’ll walk straight into our sandbox.”
Sandro grinned despite himself. “You’re enjoying this, strategist.”
Kael gave a small shrug. “It’s been a while since I built a snare.”
Ren looked between them, expression unreadable. “This isn’t a game. She won’t send drones next time. She’ll send people.”
Rori met his gaze. “Then we’ll be ready for them too.”
The words landed heavier than she intended, but she didn’t take them back.
By afternoon, the house was alive again—but different.
Cables trailed across the living room floor, connecting the console to Kael’s small mobile rig. Sandro had raided the garage for supplies, turning the space into a makeshift workshop. Ren spent an hour reinforcing the window locks, moving like a man who trusted routine more than luck.
Rori spent most of that time watching Kael.
He worked in silence, movements measured and exact, sleeves pushed up, forearms tense as he typed and spliced circuits. Every now and then, his eyes flicked up to her—not intrusive, just checking, like she was part of the system he was monitoring.
“How long have you been doing this?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t look away from the code. “Since before I believed in the people I worked for.”
“And Ren?”
“Longer than either of us will admit,” Kael said. “We built firewalls for ghosts, thinking we were saving lives. Then Maeve decided some ghosts were more useful alive.”
Rori’s jaw tightened. “She killed that girl you told me about, didn’t she?”
Kael paused. “Worse. She used her data to train SpecterNet. Every prediction, every behavior model—they’re built from what she stole from people who trusted her.”
“She thinks she’s God,” Rori said.
Kael met her eyes finally. “No. Gods create. Maeve just copies.”
Their gaze held longer than either meant it to. The air between them thickened with something unspoken—respect, maybe. Or something deeper, slower.
Ren’s voice from the kitchen broke it. “We’ve got movement.”
Kael turned immediately, pulling up the feed. “Not Maeve’s men. Utility van, unmarked. Slow roll.”
“Government?” Sandro asked.
Kael zoomed the image. “No. Corporate. Oxalis tag under the paint.”
Ren’s weapon was back in his hand. “She sent cleanup.”
Sandro’s grin faded. “Guess round two starts early.”
Rori straightened. “No. Round two starts our way.”
Kael handed her a small tablet. “This will control the sandbox node. Once you press that button, she’ll think she’s got her line back into the house. She’ll take the bait.”
Rori took the tablet, her reflection ghosted in the glass.
For a moment, she saw herself as Maeve would: a woman standing in a house built from wires and willpower, a threat because she refused to be afraid anymore.
“Ready,” she said.
Ren nodded. “Then let’s hunt.”
The van stopped two houses down. Two figures stepped out—one male, one female, both in Oxalis jackets, faces half-hidden under caps. They moved like they belonged to no one.
Inside the house, Kael counted under his breath. “Three… two… one.”
Rori tapped the tablet.
The system flared. Every monitor in the room came alive—the feed flipping from static to live trace. Digital threads appeared across the screens like veins of light, pulling data from one node to the next.
“She’s here,” Kael said softly. “Following the bait.”
Outside, the two agents paused. Their radios crackled. Then—almost in sync—they turned and walked toward the next street over, eyes on invisible orders.
“She took it,” Ren said.
Kael smiled faintly, eyes flicking to the screen. “She thinks she’s watching your front door again. But really…”
He typed a final command. The feed looped. The Oxalis server blinked, stuttered—then froze.
“She’s watching her own system eat itself,” Kael said.
Sandro laughed low. “Now that’s art.”
Rori stared at the flickering light across the screens. For the first time, it felt like they weren’t running anymore.
Not prey. Not victims.
Predators.
She looked at Kael. “You said she’ll come back.”
“She will,” he said quietly. “And when she does, she’ll bring more than code.”
Rori’s smile was thin, dangerous. “Good.”
The heartbeat of the house pulsed once, steady and strong.
Outside, the van sat abandoned, its lights still on.
And across the city, a dozen monitors in a darkened server room blinked awake.
Maeve leaned forward, watching the trap they thought they’d set for her unfold.
Her lips parted in a quiet laugh.
“Oh, Aurora,” she whispered. “You’ve learned to bite.”
The screen reflected her smile like a blade.
- Writer
