“Yeah, it’s recording.”Theo taps a few keys, leaning in and scanning fast.“Custom loop system on the shop camera and the one he installed on the street.”He glances over his shoulder at Ross.“Encrypted video retention protocol.He’s storing everything.Days, weeks, months of footage in compressed bursts.”
“Can you access it?”My pulse races.
“Not easily.”Ross scowls at the screen.“He layered this thing like a psychopath.We’re talking multi-tier AES encryption, with AI-scrambled keys that rotate every sixty seconds.He basically turned a DVR into a CIA asset.”
“But you can crack it?”I grind my molars.
“Give me twenty minutes and a Red Bull.”Theo accepts the energy drink from Carl and cracks it open.“This guy is ten steps ahead of anything I’ve seen.”
“He didn’t just lock the system.”Ross moves from one keyboard to the next, fingers flying.“If we mess up the decryption order, it’ll overwrite the sector with garbage data.”
“So don’t fuck it up.”My insides clench.
Somewhere, buried deep in this digital labyrinth, is the moment Dove vanished.
They settle into the controls, mumbling about Jag’s code, how it’s obsessively written, beautifully structured, and elegant in the most terrifying way.They scroll through camera IDs, file logs, and encrypted directories labeled with nothing but symbols and rotating characters.
“This isn’t hacking,” Ross mutters.“It’s breaking into someone’s mind.”
Thirty minutes later, Theo exhales a triumphant whoop.
“I got it!”His fingers hover over the keyboard.“This is the log for the mechanic shop, inside and on the street.”
Everyone crowds in behind him as he pulls up the time stamp.
The footage rolls.
I see myself on the screen, standing out on the street, voice carrying as I shoutI love herto the world.
Jag’s camera angle is higher than the streetlight, angled just right.I look younger somehow.Hopeful and happy.Fucking stupid.
Monty’s hand clamps onto my shoulder, and it stays there, anchoring me to the chair, as Theo fast-forwards.
The footage jumps.Skips over the blur of people dispersing.Over the moment I left.Over the empty street.
Then the decoy appears.
She slips around the corner of the building, casual, unhurried, right into the line of sight of the two guards stationed near the garage bays.
She looks like Dove, walks like her, same blue hair.With her head down, I can’t see her face.
“She came from the back.”Carl leans in, eyes narrowing.“She said she felt sick and went outside to puke.I didn’t question it.Didn’t think about how we never saw her come out of the building.”
On the screen, the guards react immediately.One steps forward, radio already up, body language shifting into escort mode.
They route her fast.Away from the garage.Toward the harbor, efficient and professional.
Monty’s grip tightens on my shoulder.I can’t look away, knowing Dove was still inside that shop as her protection left.
The footage keeps rolling.Seconds tick by.Too many of them.
Then movement.
Dove appears in the doorway of the shop, wearing her skates.
That alone tells me everything.She didn’t plan to go anywhere.
She rolls over the threshold, slow and reactive, her instinct screaming that something isn’t right.Her posture changes, shoulders tensing, chin lifting, subtle, but I know her.
