“We stay visible,” I say. “But wrong.”
Kayla tilts her head. “Explain.”
“Running is predictable,” I reply. “Disappearing creates data. Routes. Stress responses. Decision-making under pressure. You’ll be feeding them data continuously.”
“And staying doesn’t?” Snow snaps.
“Not if you choose where,” I say. “Not if you pick a variable they don’t model cleanly.”
Ghost straightens. “A known location with unstable assumptions.”
I nod.
The room holds its breath.
“The island,” Kayla says quietly.
No one argues – though several look like they want to.
Kayla doesn’t smile. Something sharp and resolute settles into her posture.
“They stopped chasing me,” she says. “That tells me everything.”
Nightshade watches her like he’s deciding whether to stand in front of the future – or walk into it with her.
“This isn’t a commitment,” I say carefully. “Not yet.”
She meets my gaze. “We have time to choose,” she says. “That’s all.”
She’s right.
I power the scanner on one last time.
The rhythm hasn’t changed.
Yet.
Which means the clock is running.
And this time, she knows it too.
BREAKING SOMETHING VITAL
I Wanna Be Your Slave - Måneskin
Nightshade
Iknow something’s wrong before she says a word.
Not because she looks upset. Not because the room feels charged – tension has been the background hum for days now. It’s the stillness. The way Kayla sits on the edge of the bed with her hands folded loosely in her lap, spine straight, shoulders relaxed, eyes alert but calm.Toocalm. Like she’s already passed through the part where this hurts and come out the other side with something harder in its place.
That kind of calm never comes for free.
I close the door behind me and let the latch click shut. The curtains are half-drawn against the late-afternoon light, the city outside blurred into motion and noise that doesn’t quite reachus. It feels contained. Temporary. Like a holding cell disguised as somewhere safe.
“We need to talk.”
Kayla lifts her head immediately. No hesitation. No bracing. “Yes.”
