{ Mia }
I was elbows-deep in code when Scarlett's voice cut through the silence.
"Warning: Perimeter breach detected. Unregistered vehicle—stationary. Surveillance systems are being blocked."
I froze.
Ace and Lex sat up immediately from where they'd been quietly dozing behind me — our little secret sleepover HQ tucked safely in my room. Or so I thought.
Lex moved to the window without a word and peered through the blinds.
"Black sedan. It wasn't there before."
My stomach sank. I minimized the program I'd been running — a deep trace on the man's call data from yesterday. I hadn't found much yet. Just dead ends and encrypted dumps. But now…
Scarlett's light flickered. "Signal triangulation failing. Cloaking interference active. Do you want me to engage lockdown protocol?"
"No," I said quickly. "Not yet. Keep monitoring."
Lex turned back toward me, his voice low. "He's watching again."
I didn't respond right away. My fingers hovered over the keys, but I couldn't focus. That damn lullaby — the one from the audio log — was playing again in my head. Not loud. Not real. Just…there. Humming beneath my thoughts.
Familiar.
Wrong.
"Mia," Ace said, finally stepping forward. "He's escalating."
I nodded once, eyes flicking back to the lines of code scrolling across my screen.
"I know."
And this time, I wasn't just going to sit back and listen.
I grabbed my hoodie from the back of my chair and pulled it on fast.
Ace raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"Going out there."
Lex blinked. "Are you insane?"
"Just a little." I stuffed a slim data tracker into my back pocket. "I'll be fine. Scarlett's eyes are still on me, right?"
Scarlett's voice chimed in my earpiece, calm and certain.
"Live feed confirmed. I've mapped the sedan's heat signature. One occupant. Minimal movement."
"Sleeping?" I asked.
"Possibly. REM state patterns suggest reduced awareness."
Perfect.
I slipped quietly through the hallway. Mom was still asleep, thankfully — she didn't know Ace and Lex were even here, and I really didn't feel like explaining a 7AM spy mission.
The back door creaked as I eased it open.
I moved fast but casual, like I was just heading to the mailbox. The cool morning air brushed against my skin, but my heart pounded like a war drum.
The sedan was parked three houses down. Perfectly ordinary. Perfectly forgettable.
Except it wasn't.
I crouched beside a garbage bin near the curb, pretending to fiddle with my shoe while I scanned the car with my portable bug-tracer.
Scarlett whispered in my ear.
"Interference field detected. Smart paint mesh—basic deflection. Not enough to stop me."
Good girl.
I slid the tiny tracker under the rear bumper — magnetic lock, short-range mic, high-res GPS. It would only stay active for a few hours unless I could reboot it later, but it was enough to get a read on his movements.
"Device planted. Tracking live. Audio sync at 73% clarity."
I straightened up, made sure no one was watching, and headed back inside — calm, controlled, but already itching to get back to my desk.
Ace was waiting by my door. "Did you get it on?"
I nodded, pulling out my laptop. "Scarlett, bring up the signal."
A map flashed onto my screen — our street, the dot pulsing red behind it.
"Target remains stationary. Power cycle spike: vehicle systems warming."
"He's leaving," Lex muttered, glancing over my shoulder.
"No," I said slowly, watching the data. "He's probing."
The car's engine didn't start. Instead, low-level frequency pings began to pulse through the tracker — rhythmic, steady, almost like sonar.
"It's scanning," Scarlett confirmed. "Looking for hidden signals."
Ace leaned in. "You think he's trying to find you?"
I didn't answer.
I already knew the truth.
He wasn't just trying to find me.
He was trying to wake something up.
"Why aren't you just blasting this guy off the street?" Lex asked, not accusing—just confused.
I stared at the red dot blinking on the screen.
"Because the last time I used my powers, I heard his voice echoing in my head for hours," I said quietly.
Ace looked up, suddenly alert.
"It's like… the more I use it, the more it becomes his."
I met his gaze.
"And I'm not ready to become what he made me."
Ace didn't say anything at first.
He just looked at me — not with judgment or pity, but something closer to recognition. Like he knew exactly what I meant.
Maybe he did.
The red dot on the map blinked again.
Then vanished.
"Target has left surveillance perimeter," Scarlett reported. "Cloaking re-engaged. Live tracking disabled."
Lex exhaled. "So we're back to square one."
I shook my head. "No. We got something. Scarlett, compile everything that pinged off the car's scan — any signatures, timestamps, anything we can cross-reference."
"Already indexing."
Ace leaned against the wall. "You think he knows about Scarlett?"
"If he didn't before," I muttered, "he's probably getting suspicious now."
A sharp knock suddenly echoed from the front door.
We all froze.
"No heat signature detected on the porch," Scarlett whispered.
Lex reached for the screwdriver on my desk like it was a weapon.
Ace was already moving toward the hallway.
I shook my head. "Don't open it."
I clicked back into the security feed.
Nothing.
Just an envelope on the welcome mat.
"Scarlett, scan it."
"Non-electronic. No visible threats. Just… paper."
Lex looked from me to the screen. "This feels like a trap."
"Everything feels like a trap," I replied.
Still, I moved to the window, peeked through the blinds.
No one.
I opened the door slowly, heart hammering, and snatched the envelope like it might bite.
It didn't.
Just plain white. No name. No return address.
I tore it open.
One photo. Glossy. A little too crisp.
It was me.
Not today. Not yesterday.
It was from years ago.
I was maybe eight. Sitting on a hospital bed. Wrapped in wires.
Crying.
Behind me, a figure stood with his back to the camera.
I didn't need to see his face to know who it was.
The man from the porch.
On the back of the photo, two words were scrawled in neat, mechanical handwriting:
"Time's up."