Seven days.

  I stuck the landing. My sneakers hit the blue mat with a solid thump. My arms snapped up into a high V, sharp enough to cut glass. My smile was plastered on, a porcelain mask that didn't reach my eyes but dazzled the JV squad watching from the bleachers.

  “Flawless, Nova!” Coach Reynolds blew her whistle. “That is what focus looks like, ladies! No wobble. No hesitation. Pure execution.”

  I lowered my arms. My chest heaved. Heart rate steady. Too steady. I was running on autopilot.

  “Thanks, Coach,” I said. My voice was bored.

  Tessa was staring at me. She stood by the water cooler, clutching her pom-poms. She looked worried. She’d been looking worried for a week, ever since I walked out of the locker room.

  “You okay, Nikki?” she mouthed.

  I nodded once. A jerky, mechanical motion.

  Wake. Cheer. Study. Sleep. Repeat. My smile was just muscle memory.

  The wolf was gone. It wasn't pacing. It wasn't growling. It was curled up in the darkest corner of my subconscious, mourning.

  I walked to the bench and grabbed my water bottle. The metal was cold against my palm.

  “Your hydration levels are suboptimal,” Handy droned in my ear. “Also, your serotonin production is low.”

  Mute.

  I took a drink. The water tasted like nothing.

  I looked at the bleachers. Section C. Row 4.

  The bleachers were empty. Just silver aluminum and dead air.

  I gripped the water bottle until the plastic crunched.

  I saved him, I told myself. I cut him loose. He’s safe.

  But safety felt a lot like numbness.

  “Nikki!”

  Cody jogged over, dodging a flying towel. He looked tired too. He hadn't made a joke in three days.

  “Hey,” I said, capping my bottle.

  “You coming to the arcade tonight?” he asked, hope fighting a losing battle in his eyes. “They fixed the Cyber-Strike machine. New high score to beat.”

  I flinched.

  “No,” I said. “I have to study.”

  “You have a 4.0 average, Nikki. You don’t need to study.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cody.”

  I walked away before he could argue.

  I marched out of the gym, my sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

  Left. Right. Left. Right.

  *****

  The tram ride home was a study in gray.

  The sky outside the window was the color of a dirty nickel. The smog hung low, choking the tops of the skyscrapers.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I sat near the door, my bag clutched to my chest. My hand rested near the side pocket, close to the taser. Habit.

  “Approaching Sector 1,” the tram’s automated voice announced.

  I scanned every face, every shadow.

  But there were no threats. No Sliders. No drones.

  Just the weight of my own choices.

  The glass shuddered against my head. The city outside was gray on gray.

  Danny was gone.

  I rubbed my chest. It felt hollow.

  The tram screeched into my station. The doors hissed open.

  I stumbled out onto the platform.

  “Handy?” I thought.

  “Yes, Nikki?”

  “Anything?”

  “The frequencies are quiet,” the AI reported. “No Pandora activity. No digital ripples.”

  I adjusted my bag.

  I walked up the stairs, emerging onto the street level.

  The sun was setting, casting long, bloody shadows across the pavement. The city looked hostile now.

  I turned the corner onto my block.

  The Olympic Tower rose into the sky, clean and sharp. It was supposed to be my fortress.

  But as I looked toward the entrance, my breath hitched in my throat.

  Then I saw it. The SUV. Matte black. Silent.

  It was hovering a few inches off the asphalt on silent repulsors. The windows were tinted black.

  But it was the emblem on the side door that made my heart stop.

  A silver box. An all-seeing eye.

  Pandora Corp.

  I froze, ducking behind a concrete planter.

  “Handy!” I hissed internally. “Target! Twelve o’clock!”

  “I see the vehicle,” Handy said. “Registration belongs to a subsidiary of Pandora Logistics.”

  “Logistics? Bullshit,” I thought. “That’s a retrieval team. They’re here.”

  My blood went cold. My hand found the taser without looking.

  My parents. Jackie.

  They were up there. They were sitting in the penthouse, completely oblivious.

  Had Pandora found the leak? Had they traced the Black Box data back to my IP address?

  “Scan it,” I ordered. “How many agents? Are they heavy assault?”

  A blue light flickered across my contact lens.

  “Scanning… complete.”

  Handy paused.

  “Nikki, the vehicle is empty of tactical gear. The bio-scans indicate one driver, heart rate resting. No weapons signatures. No comms chatter on the tactical bands.”

  “You’re wrong,” I snapped. “They’re shielding it. They have dampeners.”

  “My sensors are operating at ninety-nine percent efficiency,” Handy argued. “There is no threat detected. It could just be a delivery.”

  “No,” I whispered. “They don't do deliveries in armored hover-tanks. They know. They know I have the drive.”

  I couldn't trust the sensors. I couldn't trust the silence.

  “I have to get upstairs,” I said, my voice trembling. “I have to get to the Kennel.”

  “The Kennel? Nikki, you are escalating based on insufficient data.”

  “Prepare the Black Box protocols!”

  I stood up, pulling my hood low over my face.

  “If they touch my family, I pull the trigger. The Black Box goes public.”

  “Releasing that data will destroy your anonymity,” Handy warned. “It is the nuclear option.”

  “We’re past anonymity. Get the encryption keys ready.”

  “Acknowledged,” Handy said. “Preparing upload package.”

  I took a deep breath.

  I needed leverage. I needed the data buried in the walls of my secret lab.

  I walked past the SUV.

  I kept my head down, staring at the pavement. I felt the presence of the vehicle like a weight.

  I waited for the door to open.

  Nothing happened.

  The driver didn't look up. The window didn't roll down.

  I reached the lobby doors and pushed through, rushing past Earl, the doorman.

  “Miss Nova?”

  “Fine, Earl. Just late,” I gasped, hitting the elevators.

  I slammed the button for the penthouse.

  The doors slid shut.

  I watched the numbers climb.

  10… 20… 30…

  My reflection was pale, eyes wide and wild.

  I wasn't the bored cheerleader anymore. I was the hunter.

  “Hold on, Mom,” I whispered. “I’m coming.”

  The elevator dinged.

  The doors opened to the penthouse. I stepped out, ready for war.