My gaze lands on Finn. He’s staring at the computer screen, eyes averted, nostrils flaring.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” I rasp.
His lips press into a thin, firm line.
Then he types:
The cursor blinks again.
I hold my breath until they start typing.
Finn pulls his fingers into fists.
Just then, the terminal blinks green. The kidnappers are hosting a two-way stream, basically opening the door to us.
My speakers are still connected to the system, so I’m able to hear the warm, feminine voice as it pours through the air.
“Finn? It’s me. It’s Mom.”
Finn swallows hard, refusing to approach the computer.
“Finn, can you hear me?”
Finn launches out of his chair and starts pacing.
“I don’t think she’s AI, Finn,” I mumble. “Trust me.”
Finn’s eyes flash to mine, pure darkness and lashing storms.
After observing him from afar, I made a few calculations about who he is. But I think I missed a critical piece of the puzzle: Finn is quiet, but he’s not emotionless. The brokenness is there, right on the surface. His is the face of one suffering betrayal.
“Finn, I can explain,” his mother says. Her voice sounds muffled. My speakers are high quality, so it’s the connection that’s poor. She’s either deep underground or somewhere far, far away from the US.
“Please.”
Finn stops pacing abruptly. His expression is blank, but those eyes…
My watch buzzes. I look down and see the spike in my heart rate.
“I have only one question, Mom,” Finn growls in a low voice that sends goosebumps climbing over my skin. “What did you do with the girls?”
Chapter Eleven
FINN
I used to study my brothers with their instruments and wonder why I was different. Dutch bled over music. He would play until his fingers were busted and we had to drag him away from his guitar.
Zane hit those drums like they were his very own heartbeat. Steady. Loud. He would go on and on as if stopping for a second meant his heart would stop too. Meant he would die.
I never felt that way about anything.
