Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
If he intended to run, he never got the chance.
I edge farther inside Jag’s computer lair, squeezing between racks of servers and stepping over thick, veiny cables. The blinking lights and hum of processors vibrate with the power of an electronic brain.
The amount of tech in here? It’s way beyond me.
I know enough to boot up a system and browse the Internet. This is something else. Black computer boxes stack two and three high, flashing with multicolor LEDs. I don’t touch a damn thing.
Instead, I scan the monitors.
Most of them are live camera feeds of familiar streets and buildings. Every screen tracks a different piece of Sitka, following a clear path from the harbor to the mechanic shop.
One feed locks on the front door of the garage, a different angle than the busted camera Taaq had installed. That one died the day Dove disappeared. But this one is hidden.
The video is clear, streaming in full res and showing the mechanic shop open again.
Taaq is there, face pinched and hands busy under the hood of a car. Chester moves across the frame with a coil of hoses over one shoulder.
No Dove.
If she were there, she’d be everywhere.
I drag a chair in front of the screen and sit down hard. My hands shake, so I ball them into fists on my lap.
This camera shouldn’t exist. Not from this angle. Not from that wall. Not even Taaq knows it’s there.
“Is this video stream saving somewhere?” I point at the screen. “How do we see the footage of the day she disappeared?”
Theo and Ross push in, eyes wide as they take in Jag’s systems.
“Jesus.” Theo whistles under his breath. “This is a fortress. Looks like he built a government-grade network out of spare parts and paranoia.”
Ross makes a beeline to the nearest tower, slipping on gloves as he surveys the setup.
Monty and Carl step back, letting the techs take over. I stay planted in front of the monitor, eyes fixed on that front-door feed as if she’ll appear.
“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 shout I love her to 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.