Chapter 38
Billa
An alarm splits the air. It’s a jagged, metallic wail that seems to come from everywhere at once. Red lights flash along the ceiling, painting the white walls in blood.
Luke curses, fingers flying over the tablet. “Feed’s gone. Hard cut. It looks like they wiped everything.”
Florencia’s already moving, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Then we go analog and get them out.”
Ember’s eyes dart to me. “The west wing.”
I nod then burst into a run.
The corridor bucks with light, each pulse a heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, numerous doors slam shut. They’re locking down the building.
Luke sprints ahead, bypassing the keypad on the main security door with a small black device in his hand. Sparks jump, then the door clicks open. “Hurry!”
We rush through. The hallway beyond smells of smoke and burned plastic. When we turn the corner, there’s a trail of white thread stretched along the floor, looped around corners, leading deeper into the wing.
Ember skids to a stop. “No, not the spool.”
Florencia stares. “It’s the same signature, the same pattern from Radley.”
My stomach turns cold. “It has to be Phoenix.”
Luke’s head snaps up. “What do you mean? He’s dead.”
“We never knew that. They took him.”
Ember’s face pales. “He’s here now.”
Florencia’s expression grows even grimmer. “We have to stop him.”
No one argues, though it’s obvious Ember and Luke are conflicted, as they’re the ones who had talked to him.
We follow the thread. It glows faintly in the red light, leading us past shattered glass and overturned equipment. The sound of the alarm fades under static from the intercoms, like a voice trying to push through but caught in a loop.
We reach the rehearsal hall doors. The glass is blown out. Inside, the light flickers.
I step through first. Kenzi could be in there.
The room is chaos. Smoke hangs in the air, the walls are alive with half-burned projections. Old performance footage flickers on the cracked monitors, showing children reciting lines, lights dimming, curtains falling.
But the chair in the center is empty. No Radley, Sofia, or Kenzi. Not even Phoenix. Just the trail of thread, coiling into the open vent shaft at the back of the room.
Ember kneels beside the chair, brushing away a piece of glass. “They were here. Minutes ago.”
Luke scans the room with his flashlight. “There’s an access tunnel under a vent somewhere in here. It leads to the east maintenance wing.”
Florencia pulls out her recorder. “We need to document everything before we move. This is evidence.”
Ember rounds on her, voice sharp. “We don’t need evidence right now. We need them.”
The alarm wails louder. I look toward the vent where the thread disappears into the dark, still shifting slightly. Almost like it’s being pulled from the other side.
My heart skips a beat. “Kenzi.”
For a moment, everything stills. Then, from deep inside the vent, a faint voice answers.
“Billa?”
It’s broken, metallic, distorted by the echo, but it’s hers.
I drop to my knees. “Kenzi, we’re here! Hold on!”
The thread jerks once, snapping tight, then goes slack.
Luke shines his light into the vent. “It’s too narrow. We’ll have to circle around.”
Florencia swallows hard. “If the tunnels are still mapped the same way, that means they’re heading toward sub-level three.”
“Where they kept the early experiments.” Ember’s eyes widen.
For a moment, none of us speaks. The air hums with electricity and dread.
I rise, heart thundering. “It’s time we finish this.”
We follow the thread into the dark.