“The people who made you took her,” Xen told the smaller woman. “Have you remembered anything since we were last here?”
“Thorne’s in on it, clearly,” Lung protested, skipping over Sophia entirely.
“Sirena’s been . . . taken?” the gargoyle asked, standing straighter.
“We’re afraidshewas a trap,” Cassia said, giving the girl Sophia a pained look.
“I . . . was?”
“Well, now that we’re here, it does seem unlikely,” she granted, giving her wrapped head a nod.
Just as Nex had told them in the conference room. But Xen could not blame them for wanting to see for themselves. He had, too.
He stepped in.
Close enough to smell the cheap detergent on her shirt. The blood on her feet.
Close enough to watch her pupils shift—fight or flight stuttering between frames.
He didn’t reach for her. Just lowered his gaze.
And engaged the scan.
His vision fractured—layers folding in. Bones mapped. Nerves lit.
Threads. Not natural. Silver filaments laced along her spine. Wrapped muscles like wire around will.
And there—beneath the clavicle, tight against her heart—something glowed.
Passive transmission. Ping: constant. Source: internal.
Hers was what they had threatened to do to Sirena, sans biometric tether.
This one was a remote trigger, on an unknown loop.
His hands curled, just slightly.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just rerouted the data.
To Cassia’s phone first.
Then Ellum’s.
Then Lung’s wristband.
Then Royce, remotely—wherever he was, he’d see it. He’d know.
No buzz. No sound. Just alerts, quietly blooming open.
TRANSMISSION CONFIRMED
SUBJECT: SOPHIA
SIGNAL: PASSIVE / LIVE
EST RANGE: 2.1KM
DO NOT ALERT.
