It’s Sunday afternoon,and we’re standing in a rundown part of Seattle, the kind of neighborhood where the air feels thicker, weighed down by years of neglect. The buildings around us have clearly seen better days—with cracked paint peeling away from weathered façades, rusty railings that have long since lost their shine, and windows so grimy they look like they haven’t been cleaned in years.
We arrived here straight from the hospital after visiting Mr. Donovan and delivering the promised cake and audiobooks. Despite our best efforts to hide it, he noticed the tension simmering beneath the surface. When we explained the situation to him, he didn’t mince words, asking why the hell we were wasting time with him instead of getting the answers we needed.
His bluntness hit home, and we quickly piled back into the Tesla, driving over to this place. Now, standing in front of the apartment building, I can’t shake the unease settling in my stomach. The guys are tense, too, their expressions mirroring the apprehension I feel.
“Are you sure this is the address you found?” Doubt lingers in my question as I glance at Grey.
Grey doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sure,” he replies firmly, though there’s a hint of unease in his eyes as he surveys the area.
Before I can say anything else, I hear footsteps approaching from behind. I turn around and spot Willow coming toward us, her face lighting up with recognition when she sees me. “Amelia?”
“Willow!” I say, relief flooding my chest as I step forward to hug her. I pull back and ask, “How have you been?” But at the simple question, the spark in her eyes dims.
Willow just shrugs a noncommittal gesture that makes my heart ache a little. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice distant, as if she’s somewhere else entirely.
I exchange a quick look with Oliver before turning back to Willow. “Is your dad home? We wanted to talk to him.”
“Sure,” Willow replies with another shrug, turns, and leads us up to the apartment. The stairs creak under our feet as we climb, the hallway dimly lit and smelling faintly of mildew. My heart races with anticipation and dread.
When we reach the door, Willow opens it and steps inside, calling out, “Dad, Amelia and her friends are here.”
The apartment is small, almost claustrophobic, and the furniture is sparse and so worn, it makes my chest tighten. Hendricks is sitting at a small table, hunched over a laptop. When he sees us, his eyes widen in shock, and he stands so abruptly his chair scrapes against the floor. “Fuck,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but the word hits me like a punch.
That’s not a reaction of someone who’s innocent.
My heart plummets, and I exchange a worried glance with Grey, who’s standing tensely beside me.
“Willow, can you go into your room, please?” Hendricks asks, almost pleading. “The adults need to have a conversation.”
Willow’s eyes flash with something sharp—resentment, maybe—and she retorts, “Why don’t you go to yours? Oh, right, I forgot, you don’t have one.”
I glance around the small apartment and notice the couch in the corner, rumpled and strewn with blankets. It’s clearly been used as a makeshift bed.
Willow stalks over to a door and pulls it closed with unnecessary force, making the room feel even smaller.
Hendricks sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, weariness evident in every word. “She’s… difficult right now. But you probably don’t want to hear about that. You’re here for something else, aren’t you?”
Grey steps forward, his expression steely. “We’re here because we want answers.”
Hendricks nods, looking like he’s aged a decade in the last few weeks. His frame is thinner, his eyes sunken with dark circles beneath them. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admits, though his hands tremble slightly. “I thought I could live with the knowledge of what I’ve done, but I can’t.”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “You stole my work?”
Hendricks’ eyes widen, his face paling. “Your work? No, Stanley, I didn’t steal it, I…” He curses under his breath, frustration cracking his composure. “Fuck.”
“Then what?” I ask, feeling my throat tighten. The air in the room is thick with tension.
Misha, who’s been standing silently behind me until now, steps forward. “I think it’s time to spill, buddy.”
Hendricks swallows hard, then nods, his shoulders slumping as if he’s carrying the weight of the world. He sighs deeply before starting to explain. “It all started when Willow was over at your place. She saw the AR interfaces in your apartment, and afterward, she couldn’t stop talking about it. I noticed how different you seemed since you started beta testing for theseguys…” he gestures vaguely toward Grey and Oliver, “… and I got worried. I thought they were pulling you in to test more than just the AI, that they were roping you into…”
He looks around at the guys, his gaze faltering. “I… I didn’t trust them,” he admits, guilt etched into his features. “But I knew you were falling for them, and I just knew it wouldn’t go over well if I tried to talk to you about it…” He pauses, looking down at his hands as if the words are too painful to say. “I made a mistake and went to Langley,” he finally says, barely above a whisper. “I told him my suspicions, that these guys were taking advantage of you, dragging you into something dangerous. I mentioned the lensless AR Willow described seeing at your place. Langley wanted proof. He asked me to go into your apartment and get evidence, but I refused. I told him you wouldn’t just talk about it with me and that I wasn’t going to invade your privacy like that.”
Oliver’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with anger. “You went to Langley with this? Without even talking to her first? You could’ve confronted us before doing something so reckless.”
Hendricks’ voice cracks as he continues, “I know, okay? I fucked up. But then I fucked up even more. In a stupid moment, I let it slip that Willow had a spare key to Stanley’s apartment. Langley seized on that, said I needed to use the key to get in and bring him the proof. I refused again, but then he started pressuring me, reminding me of all the additional support Willow was getting, specialized tutors, therapy, and extra resources that Elysium was subsidizing as part of an employee assistance program for families with children who have learning disabilities.”
He runs a hand through his hair, looking defeated. “Even with Elysium’s decent pay, I couldn’t afford all those extra services on my own. Langley knew that. He said if I didn’t do what he asked, all that support would disappear. Willow wouldlose her spot at the school, and all the progress she’d made would be at risk. I felt trapped… I thought I didn’t have a choice.”
