Chapter Fourty Eight: Signal Lost
558 Words
Xavier’s POV
The first thing he noticed was silence.
Not the calm kind, but the heavy kind that creeps in right before something goes wrong.
His laptop screen glowed dimly in the dark. He’d been watching Mila’s digital marker for an hour now — the tiny blinking dot that pulsed at the edge of the map. She was supposed to be at home. She always was by now. But the signal… it flickered. Twice. Then disappeared.
A single word formed in his mind, cold and sharp.
Offline.
“No,” he whispered, refreshing the page. Once. Twice. Five times.
Still nothing.
He leaned back, jaw tight, heart hammering hard against his ribs. It wasn’t supposed to vanish. The tracker code he’d hidden inside her student badge wasn’t meant to just… fail.
Unless someone had found it.
Or she’d gone somewhere the network couldn’t reach.
Or—
His mind refused to finish the thought.
He shoved his chair back and stood, pacing. The clock on his wall glowed 2:17 a.m.
Too late to call her. Too late to show up uninvited.
Too late to pretend he wasn’t already in too deep.
He opened a second program — one he wasn’t supposed to have access to. The Reed security database hummed quietly, asking for his father’s authorization. Xavier bypassed it with a few keystrokes. His pulse spiked when he saw it: an entry logged fifteen minutes ago. “Private transport – authorized: A. Miller.”
Her father.
“What the hell, Mila…” he muttered.
She wasn’t home.
She wasn’t safe.
And somehow, her father was involved.
He slammed his laptop shut and grabbed his jacket. His reflection in the dark window looked almost foreign — wild-eyed, restless. The same boy who used to play games with power was now chasing after something he couldn’t control.
Before leaving, he hesitated. His father’s office door was closed down the hall. The faint glow under it told him the man was awake — again.
Xavier’s fingers curled around the doorknob… then stopped.
Not tonight. Not yet. He’d already pushed too many boundaries.
Instead, he turned and slipped out into the night.
*****
The streets were empty, washed in silver from the half-moon. The wind bit cold against his skin as he rode his motorbike toward the Miller residence, every light and shadow sharpening his instincts.
When he reached the gate, he knew something was off. The porch light was on, but the curtains were drawn tight. A black car — government issue — idled a few meters away.
Xavier killed the engine and watched.
Two men stepped out of the car. Not police. Not guards. Suits — expressionless, coordinated, silent. They entered the house without knocking.
He swore under his breath. His hand tightened around the helmet.
Project Mnemosyne.
It wasn’t over. And now Mila was caught in it.
*****
He backed the bike into the shadows and dialed the one number he swore he’d never use.
When the voice on the other end picked up, smooth and amused, Xavier didn’t bother with greetings.
“She’s gone,” he said quietly. “And they’re moving.”
There was a pause, then the voice replied, “Finally. I told you it would start soon.”
The line clicked dead.
And Xavier, for the first time in years, felt something dangerously close to fear.
- Writer
