The Signal
Later that evening, Damien burst into the study, his voice urgent. "I found something!"
Ethan looked up instantly. "Where?"
Damien placed his laptop on the desk. "It's a location ping — Eleanor's phone went live for just a few seconds. It's coming from an abandoned textile factory on the outskirts."
Ethan was already grabbing his coat. "Get the team ready. We move now."
Clara, who had just stepped into the doorway, froze. "Eleanor? You found her?"
Ethan met her gaze, the wall between them flickering — just for a heartbeat. "We think so."
"I'm coming with you."
"Clara, no—"
She lifted her chin. "Don't. Don't tell me to stay behind when she's missing because of me."
Ethan hesitated, then finally nodded. "Stay close to Damien. Don't leave his side."
For the first time in days, something like trust passed between them.
Hours later, as the convoy of black SUVs sped through the darkened road, Clara glanced at Ethan from the back seat. His profile was cold, unreadable — yet she could see the tension in his hands.
He was scared. Not for himself — but for the people he was finally learning to love.
And far ahead, inside the factory, Eleanor stirred weakly — whispering through cracked lips, "Please… let them come before she does…"