Chapter 84 Jonah
Jonah
The pattern shouldn’t be able to do this.
It shifts again—clean, precise, intentional—and this time I don’t chase the code.
I follow the behavior.
That’s when it clicks.
This isn’t an intrusion.
It’s intelligence.
My fingers still on the keyboard, I isolate the thread, locking it down before it can slip again.
“Got you,” I mutter.
“Do you?” Ronan asks from across the room.
I don’t answer.
Because I’m not sure I do.
The system stills.
Not freezes.
Waits.
A slow breath fills my lungs as I lean forward slightly, eyes scanning every line.
“Show yourself,” I say.
Nothing.
Then—
The screen flickers.
Not a glitch.
Not interference.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
Text begins to form across the monitor.
Not code.
Words.
You’re close.
Every muscle in my body tightens.
Ronan moves closer behind me. “What the hell is that?”
I don’t look away from the screen.
“Not what,” I say quietly.
“Who.”
The cursor blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Closer than you should be.
My jaw tightens.
“Then stop running.”
A pause.
Long enough to feel intentional.
Like she’s considering it.
Or deciding something.
Then—
I’m not running.
That lands heavier than it should.
Because it feels true.
Because whatever this is…
It hasn’t been avoiding me.
It’s been guiding me.
“Then what are you doing?” I ask.
The cursor blinks again.
The silence stretches just long enough to get under my skin.
Then—
Waiting.
Something cold settles in my chest.
Ronan shifts beside me. “Jonah—”
“Give me a second.”
My focus narrows, everything else falling away as I lean closer to the screen.
“Why me?”
This time, the response comes faster.
Like she already knows the answer.
Because you’re the only one who followed the pattern.
A beat.
Then another line appears.
Slower this time.
More deliberate.
And the only one who might survive what’s coming.
That does it.
“Who are you?” I demand.
The cursor blinks.
Holds.
And for a second—
I think she’s gone.
Then—
Not yet.
The words hit harder than they should.
Not denial.
Not avoidance.
A decision.
My grip tightens on the edge of the desk.
“You don’t get to control this,” I say.
The response is immediate.
I already do.
Silence crashes into the room.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Ronan exhales sharply behind me. “Yeah, I don’t like this.”
Neither do I.
But I’m not pulling back.
Not now.
“Then prove it,” I say, voice low. “Give me something real.”
For a second—
Nothing happens.
Then the screen flickers again.
The pattern shifts.
And suddenly—
A set of coordinates appears.
My eyes lock onto them instantly.
Domestic.
Remote.
Not hidden.
Not masked.
Too clean.
“Trap?” Ronan mutters.
“Yeah.”
No hesitation.
No doubt.
I stare at the numbers.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to question it.
To slow down.
To think this through.
But something else pushes harder.
Curiosity.
Instinct.
Something I can’t quite name.
“She wants us there,” I say.
Ronan snorts. “That’s not comforting.”
No.
It’s not.
I reach for my weapon anyway.
“Get your gear.”
He studies me for half a second.
Then nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go meet your ghost.”
I glance back at the screen one last time.
The coordinates are still there.
Waiting.
Like she knew exactly what I’d do.
My jaw tightens.
“Not a ghost,” I say.
And for the first time since this started—
I’m sure of it.
“She’s real.”