Chapter 10 – Threads That Hold
1329 Words
Morning rain slicked the streets below the Caldera, softening the city into silver. Inside the suite, the lights were low. Ren sat by the window, quiet and focused, while Sandro paced with restless energy, tie loose, hair damp from the shower. I watched them both for a moment, then turned toward the mirror to make a call I both needed and dreaded.
Zoe answered first—her hair up, eyes sharper than I remembered. “You look tired,” she said.
“I’m fine,” I lied, smiling. “Just long nights.”
“You’re not going to tell me where you are, are you?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But soon.”
She sighed, pretending not to care. “Fine. I have a game tonight. You can at least pretend to worry about that.”
“I never stop,” I said. “Send me a video of your serve.”
Her eyes softened. “Deal.”
Then Luca appeared, hoodie up, already the quiet protector. “We’re good here,” he said, voice calm. “The locks are holding.”
“You’ve been checking?” I asked.
“Every night.” He looked away, embarrassed by his own vigilance. “Just in case.”
I felt the words I wanted to say—you shouldn’t have to—but swallowed them. “Keep doing what feels right,” I said instead.
Mateo popped into view; blanket tied around his shoulders. “Mama, the house wagged again this morning. It growled a little, but I told it to be nice.”
Sandro leaned against the counter, smirking. “It listens to you better than Ren does.”
“It’s true,” Mateo said proudly. “The wag means happy, right?”
“Right,” I said. “And the growl means it’s watching over you.”
He nodded like it was sacred knowledge. “Good. Then we’re safe.”
The call ended, but their voices stayed in my chest like echoes. I stared at the blank screen until Ren’s voice cut through. “We’re being watched.”
The television flickered on by itself. Static. Then Maeve’s face filled the screen. No sound—just her lips forming my name. Aurora. The image vanished as suddenly as it appeared, leaving the room in heavy silence.
Sandro moved first, ripping the power cord from the wall. “Well, that’s new.”
Ren was already scanning for signals. “She’s testing range. Probably linked into the hotel network.”
I stepped closer to the window, unease crawling up my spine. “She’s in the building, isn’t she?”
Ren didn’t answer. Which told me enough.
Sandro threw up his hands. “So what? We hide again? Wait for her to make the next move?”
“We don’t improvise,” Ren said, tone hard. “That’s how she wins.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Sandro shot back. “You’re the only one allowed to have instincts.”
They stood inches apart now—two storms clashing, silent sparks flying in the narrow space between them. Ren’s restraint was steel; Sandro’s defiance, fire. I stepped in before it could burn.
“Enough,” I said quietly. “She wants us off balance, and you’re giving it to her. We move floors, change our trail. But we do it together.”
The air shifted. Ren held my gaze, then gave a small nod. Sandro exhaled, tension easing off his shoulders.
“Together,” Sandro echoed. “Fine. But I’m driving next time.”
Ren smirked, faint but real. “Not a chance.”
The service hallway smelled like bleach and rain. Ren led, scanning corners; Sandro followed, his humor quieter now, protective. I heard the hum before I saw him—a voice from the shadows, calm and low.
“If you take that left,” the man said, “you’ll walk straight into a camera that’s been running hot for eight minutes.”
Ren froze. A figure stepped into the light. Broad-shouldered. Tall. A streak of gray at his temples that made him look wise instead of old. His eyes were calm—focused, but kind.
“Hello, Ren,” he said, like greeting an old memory. “Still sleeping near exits, I see.”
“Name,” Ren demanded.
“Kael,” he replied. “Used to work with the same people you did, before Maeve turned intel into manipulation.”
Sandro’s hand drifted toward his jacket. “You tracking us?”
Kael smiled faintly. “If I were with her, we’d already be having a much louder conversation.”
Ren didn’t lower his guard. “Prove it.”
Kael reached into his coat, slow, deliberate. He pulled out a signal scrambler—the same model Ren used. “Yours was emitting at a traceable frequency. I fixed it.”
Ren’s eyes narrowed, but he took the device. “How long have you been following her?”
“Long enough to know she’s using SpecterNet to field-test psychological mapping on live targets,” Kael said. “You, Aurora, and your children are part of the control group.”
My stomach dropped. “My children?”
Kael nodded once. “Only through proximity. Their home systems were flagged because of you. But I cut that feed this morning.”
Sandro let out a slow breath. “He’s either our savior or the most polite spy I’ve ever met.”
Kael smiled at that. “Hopefully the first.”
Ren finally lowered his weapon. “You have somewhere safe?”
“Six blocks from here,” Kael said. “An old rehearsal space above a dance supply store. Off-grid. Cameras looped. You can breathe there.”
I glanced between them, then nodded. “Lead the way.”
The studio smelled faintly of dust and wood polish, like memory and second chances. Light filtered through cracked blinds, catching the sheen of old mirrors warped by time. Kael opened a small case—phones, radios, tools laid out with quiet precision.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said. “I’ll keep first watch.”
Ren studied him carefully. “You trust too easily.”
Kael met his stare without flinching. “No. I just choose where to place it.”
Sandro stretched, testing the floorboards. “I like him,” he said, glancing at me. “He doesn’t waste words.”
Kael’s lips curved. “I’ve learned words can get you killed.”
Ren said nothing, but I saw it—the unspoken acknowledgment that another soldier had entered the field.
I sat by the window, watching the rain taper into mist. My phone buzzed. A photo from Zoe: her volleyball serve midair. Luca’s text followed: House wagged at 8:03. Growled at 8:05. Mateo sent a dragon drawn in blue crayon, the caption: RAWR I AM FRIENDLY.
Kael caught the faint smile on my face. “The house wagging,” he said softly, “what does that mean?”
I laughed under my breath. “It’s what my youngest calls the home security alerts. Wagging means the system’s happy. Growling means it’s working.”
Kael nodded, thoughtful. “Good language for it. Houses should have moods.”
I looked up, meeting his eyes. “So should people.”
He held my gaze, something quiet and solid passing between us. “Then you’re already winning.”
Ren returned from the far side of the room. “We start at dawn. SpecterNet’s launch is tomorrow, and Maeve won’t wait.”
Sandro poured himself a small drink, lifting it in a mock toast. “To dawn then,” he said. “And to the wag before the growl.”
Kael smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”
And for the first time since this began, the silence that filled the room didn’t feel like fear.
It felt like waiting for the next move in a game we were finally learning how to play.
- Writer
