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86
The afternoon sun streamed through the living room windows of my apartment. My bandaged hand was a constant reminder <b>of </b>yesterday’s basketball game and the wounds that had reopened during my dominance over Brock Reynolds and his team. Ethan sat across from me, scrolling through his phone, asionally ncing up with an amused expression at the continuing fallout from the “Princeton Strip Show” as the school forum had dubbed it.
My phone vibrated on the coffee table. Ryan’s name shed on the screen.
“Yeah?” I answered, leaning back on the couch.
“<b>Boss</b><b>, </b>we have a situation.” Ryan’s voice was tense,cking its usual casual tone. “Max is missing<b>.</b>”
I sat up straight. “What do you mean ‘missing“?”
1
“He was at school, then he wasn’t. Hisst ss ended thirty minutes ago. I’ve checked everywhere–cafeteria, library, usual hangouts. The watch signal disappeared too.”
A cold feeling spread through my chest. The watch I’d given Max for Christmas wasn’t just waterproof—it had a built–in tracker only I could ess.
“I’ll call you back,” I said, ending the call and immediately reaching for my backupptop on the side table.
Ethan set his phone down, his rxed demeanor vanishing. “What’s wrong?”
“Ryan says Max is missing.” My fingers flew across the keyboard as I logged into my tracking system.
Ethan moved from the armchair to sit beside me on the couch, his shoulder brushing against mine as he leaned in to see the screen.
“Your hand is still injured. Let me help,” he offered, reaching for theptop.
“The tracking system is my design. I know it better,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the screen. “The signal’s being blocked, not hacked. That’s something.”
Connor’s phone rang, drawing our attention. He stepped away to answer it, but his concerned expression as he nced back at us confirmed he was receiving simr news.
“The security team just called,” Connor said after hanging up. “They lost visual on Max after hisst ss.”
I refocused on my screen, bypassing security protocols and essing deeper tracking functions. “Got it. The watch and phone are both at the eastern building on campus.”
“That’s the old science wing,” Ethan said, leaning closer. “It’s been empty sincest semester. They’re nning to rebuild it over the summer.”
8:00 Fri<b>, </b>Sep 26 T
…
Connor watched with barely concealed amazement as my fingers moved across the keyboard<b>, </b>breaking through security systems like they were made of tissue paper.
“I’m pulling up the school’s security feeds,” I said, windows of surveince footage popping up on my screen. I scrolled through different cameras, analyzing each feed. “The system hasn’t beenpromised. This was targeted specifically at Max.”
“You can ess the school’s private security system?” Connor whispered, eyes wide.
I ignored him, sending a text to Ryan with the location. “Ryan and Zach are heading to the eastern building now.”
On the screen, students moved through hallways, filtered into ssrooms, everything appearing normal. Then I spotted him–a muscr man in a tactical–style outfit walking out of the teacher’s office area.
<b>86 </b>
“That’s Sergeant Ford,” Ethan said, frowning. “The training camp instructor. But what would he be doing there during regr school hours?”
“Coincidence,” I muttered.
My phone buzzed with a message from Ryan: <i>Found </i><i>him</i>. <i>East </i><i>building </i><i>janitor’s </i><i>closet</i><i>. </i><i>Unconscious </i><i>but </i><i>breathing</i><i>. </i><i>Dropped </i><i>him </i><i>where </i><i>a </i><i>teacher </i><i>would find </i>him. <i>He’s </i><i>being </i><i>taken </i><i>to </i><i>the </i><i>infirmary </i><i>now</i><i>. </i>
I immediately switched to the infirmary’s camera feed, watching as two staff members carried Max to a bed. His face was pale but he appeared unharmed.
“He looks okay,” Ethan said, his voice low and reassuring. “Could this be the Shadow Organization?”
I didn’t answer, continuing to watch the screen as a nurse checked Max’s vital signs. Instead of specting, I needed
facts. “We’ll ask Max when he wakes up.”
Connor was staring at me, his professional demeanor cracking as realization dawned on his face. “You’re X,” he said,
his voice barely above a whisper.
I nced at him, neither confirming nor denying.
“The hacker. The one who…” Connor trailed off, looking at Ethan, whoseck of surprise confirmed what he suspected. “You knew?<i>” </i>
Ethan merely nodded once, his attention still on the screen showing Max.
Connor fell silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He looked from me to Ethan and back again, visibly struggling to find words.
“You’re… actually X?” he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly.
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “And you’re just… such a young girl<b>?</b><b>” </b>
8:01 Fri<b>, </b>Sep 26 <b>T </b>
I didn’t respond, turning my attention back to the screen showing Max.
On screen, Max stirred, his eyes fluttering open. I immediately dialed his number, putting the call on speaker.
“Hey,” Max’s voice was weak.
“What happened?” I asked, keeping my voice calm despite the rage building inside me.
86
“Not sure,” he mumbled. “A teacher I didn’t recognize asked me to help move some equipment. When we got to the storage room, I felt dizzy… then nothing.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Not really. Everything’s fuzzy.”
“Does anything hurt? Feel off?” I pressed.
“Just my head. Little dizzy still.”
“Stay there. I’lle get you soon.” I hung up and closed theptop, my mind already calcting possibilities and
responses.
“He was drugged,” I told Ethan. “Probably something fast–acting, meant to knock him out quickly.”
Ethan’s expression darkened. “If you don’t have other enemies, this has to be the Shadow Organization. But why target Max and not harm him?”
“It’s a warning.” My voice was ice cold.
Ethan studied my face carefully. “They’re afraid of directly confronting you.”
I nodded slightly. The Shadow Organization had good reason to fear me. Ace of Spades, King of Hearts, Umbra, Silhouette, Eclipse–all dead by my hand. I knew their operations, their personnel, their weaknesses. And they’d lost their greatest asset when they betrayed Shadow–me.
In direct confrontation, one on one, not a single member of the Shadow Organization could match me. JOKER mightst longer than most, but the oue would be the same. But they could target the few people I cared about. That’s what made them dangerous.
“Will they go after Max directly next time?” Ethan asked, his concern evident.
“They’ll try,” I said, my tone making it clear what would happen if they did. “We’ll be ready.”
My war with the Shadow Organization had officially begun.
He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “And when it’s over? When you’ve finished what you started? Will I get the
8:01 Fri<b>, </b>Sep 26 <b>T</b>…
answers I’m looking for?”
:
The question hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning. Before <b>I </b>could respond, Connor cleared his throat.
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“Miss Morgan,” he said, his voice filled with a newfound reverence. His earlier shock had transformed into barely contained excitement as he stared at me with undisguised admiration. “I can’t believe I’ve been in the same room as
X this whole time.”
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