Chapter 9: The Things We Lose
The message stayed on Luca's phone long after the stadium had gone quiet. Even after the wind settled and the shattered glass stopped moving across the field, neither of them spoke. Amara stood frozen near the bleachers, her chest aching where the invisible force had thrown her backward. The pain barely mattered anymore. Something else sat heavier inside her, something she couldn't explain—a strange emptiness she could feel but not understand.
She kept reaching for it instinctively, whatever had disappeared. A memory. Something important. Warm. Familiar. But every time she tried to grasp it, her thoughts slipped away from her like water through open fingers. She knew she had lost something, and somehow that frightened her more than the powers, more than the girl, more than the impossible things happening around her.
"Amara."
Luca's voice broke through the silence. She turned slowly. He looked pale, his expression tighter than she had ever seen it, his phone still clenched in his hand like it might disappear if he loosened his grip.
"We need to leave," he said quietly.
Amara frowned, still disoriented. "Why?"
He hesitated before turning the screen toward her again.
IF YOU WANT YOUR BROTHER, STOP HER BEFORE THEY FIND HER.
Below the message was the picture.
The same one.
Luca's brother standing beside a building neither of them recognized, wearing the same dark hoodie he had disappeared in nearly a year ago. He looked older somehow. Tired. But alive.
At least, alive enough to smile.
Amara studied Luca's face carefully. "Do you think it's real?"
His jaw tightened. "I don't know," he admitted, and somehow that uncertainty sounded worse than fear. "If it's fake, someone's messing with me. If it's real…" He stopped speaking, swallowing hard. "Then someone's been watching me for months."
The walk back into town felt strangely disconnected from reality. Cars still passed by. People stood outside cafés talking about ordinary things. Someone laughed too loudly near a convenience store, and a little kid cried because he dropped his ice cream. The world kept moving like nothing had changed, like impossible things weren't unfolding just beneath the surface.
Amara hated that.
"How long?" she asked suddenly.
Luca glanced sideways at her. "What?"
"This." She gestured vaguely to herself. "The memory thing. How long before I forget everything?"
He didn't answer immediately, and the silence between them felt too honest.
"My brother forgot things," he finally said. "Small stuff first. Birthdays. Conversations. Things we used to joke about." His voice grew quieter. "Then one day he looked at me like I was somebody he almost remembered."
The words settled heavily inside her.
When they reached Luca's house, he led her into the garage instead of inside. It was dusty and quiet, filled with forgotten things stacked into corners—old boxes, rusted tools, a bicycle with one missing wheel. The kind of place people stopped noticing after enough time had passed. It felt hidden in a comforting way.
Luca leaned against an old workbench while Amara sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at her hands.
Something felt wrong.
Different.
Her emotions seemed… quieter.
Muted.
Like someone had turned the volume down on parts of her without asking permission.
"Do you ever feel less like yourself?" she asked suddenly.
Luca looked at her carefully. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated, struggling to explain something she barely understood herself. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I feel things less now. Or maybe not less—just…" She searched for the word. "Duller."
She looked down.
"I forgot something important today," she admitted softly. "And I think the scariest part is that I'm not even sad enough about it."
Luca didn't say anything right away.
Because there wasn't a good response to that.
The silence stretched between them until—
A loud crash echoed upstairs.
Metal.
Heavy.
Both of them froze instantly.
Another sound followed.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Not rushing.
Whoever it was wasn't afraid.
Luca grabbed the nearest thing he could find—a rusted wrench resting against the wall. Amara stood slowly, her pulse beginning to quicken. The air around her shifted instinctively. Dust rose from the floor. A loose screw rolled across the concrete without being touched.
Then came a voice from upstairs.
Calm.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
"You should really stop hiding," it called.
Amara felt her stomach drop.
The girl.
Luca cursed quietly under his breath. "How did she find us?"
But Amara already knew the answer before the thought had fully formed.
Because somehow—
Deep down—
She didn't think the girl had ever lost them at all.
The garage lights suddenly flickered once before cutting out completely, plunging them into darkness.
And somewhere above them—
Someone smiled.