He doesn’t flinch.
“Stand still for five seconds. Or do something useful.”
I drag a hand over my face, breathing rough. “I am doing something useful. I’m?—”
“You’re burning energy,” he cuts in. “We need you thinking.”
I hate that he’s right.
Before I can say anything else, Ryder’s phone buzzes in his hand.
The shift in his expression is instant.
“Sending it,” he says. “Fucking hell.”
A second later, Zane’s laptop pings.
We all move at once.
Aurora fills the screen.
Alive.
My chest locks up so hard it hurts.
She’s sitting against a wall, wrists bound behind her, face pale but steady. Too steady. She’s holding herself together by sheer force of will.
“Ryder,” she says.
Her voice hits like a punch to the ribs.
I step closer without realizing it, like I can get nearer to her through the screen if I try hard enough.
“I’m okay,” she continues.
Lie, I can see it, but she says it anyway, because she’s trying to protect us.
Of course she is.
“I’m still here.”
My jaw tightens.
She hesitates.
“Don’t do anything stupid. Please.”
The video cuts. Silence crashes down into the room. No one moves.
Then I exhale, sharp and unsteady. “She’s okay.”
“She’s alive,” Zane corrects.
Ryder’s already moving again. “Track it.”
“I am,” Zane says, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Video metadata’s stripped. Burner device.”
“Of course it is,” I mutter.
