The door clicked shut behind Leonard, and silence settled back over the room.

  The photo of Natalie Shard still rested on the table, untouched since Kai had picked it up.

  Kai stared at her face a moment longer before placing the photo gently back in the folder.

  His thoughts drifted.

  Not to the case. Not yet.

  To Ms. Callahan.

  The conversation had taken earlier in a quiet corner of the school where no one else had reason to be. She’d spoken in a calm voice, too casual for the weight her words carried.

  “They’re still looking for your father. They know he disappeared — they just don’t know where.”

  He remembered how her eyes had scanned the hallway before she said it.

  “The Order doesn’t know much about you yet. But that won’t last forever.”

  That sentence had echoed in his mind ever since.

  They don’t know much about you yet.

  The Order — the ancient power his father once opposed, now half-shrouded in secrecy and myth — wasn’t watching the team. Not directly. But their reach was vast.

  Ms. Callahan had said she still had people inside the Order. Operatives. Ghosts. Eyes behind their veil.

  If that was true, she was invaluable.

  But trust wasn’t something Kai gave easily.

  And right now, he couldn’t afford to misplace it.

  He’d need her eventually — to help him refine his ability, understand it better, maybe even shape his team with more precision.

  But first…

  He needed to be sure.

  Of her.

  Of her loyalty.

  Of what she really knew about his father — and what she wasn’t saying.

  But that would come later.

  Right now—

  “Boss.”

  Felix’s voice broke the silence.

  Kai looked up.

  Felix was motioning toward the monitor wall. One of the main screens was split into four feeds: street camera angles, lobby footage, building schematics, and… the girl.

  Natalie.

  Felix tapped the keyboard.

  “This is from a traffic cam four blocks from her father’s building. Day she disappeared. She’s walking alone.”

  Kai stepped closer.

  The girl on the screen wasn’t in distress. She wasn’t running. Just walking — calm. Purposeful. As if she knew where she was going.

  But there was something in her eyes. A fixedness. A hollow focus.

  “Zoom in,” Kai said.

  Felix did.

  Natalie paused at a crosswalk.

  In her right hand was a phone. But she wasn’t texting. She wasn’t looking down.

  She was holding it up.

  Camera-side out.

  Like she was recording.

  Or watching something.

  “What’s she doing?” Jonah asked behind them.

  Felix scrubbed the footage forward two seconds at a time.

  Natalie looked directly at the screen — through the camera.

  Then… she smiled.

  Only for a moment.

  Then she lowered the phone, crossed the street, and disappeared off-frame.

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  “Maybe she knew it was there,” Mara said. “The camera.”

  Kai’s jaw clenched slightly.

  Or maybe… she wanted someone to follow her.

  The monitor feed flickered once, then locked in.

  Kai stepped closer.

  One of the main screens now displayed a school entrance — clean pavement, high gates, students milling around in pockets of laughter and backpacks. The colors were bright, filtered through a gentle autumn sun.

  Iris was walking calmly up the school steps, dressed in casual layers: dark jeans, a fitted jacket, hair tied back. A near-invisible camera was threaded through the stitching of her collar — just beneath the fold, angled perfectly to capture eye-lines and expressions.

  She moved like she belonged there.

  Blended in effortlessly.

  Kai had sent her out hours earlier — quiet instructions and one simple goal:

  “Find the cracks. People always know more than they say.”

  The sound clicked on.

  “Iris’s mic is live,” Felix confirmed.

  The group gathered behind Kai now, watching as their teammate approached a group of girls standing near the gate — four in a loose circle, laughing over something on a phone screen.

  Iris walked straight in.

  “Hey,” she said smoothly, like she’d been part of the group all along. “Sorry — I’ve seen you around, right? You were in AP Literature with Natalie?”

  One of the girls — tall, blonde, pink gloss — looked up. “Yeah, we knew her. You’re…?”

  “New,” Iris smiled. “Transferred in. Heard about what happened.”

  The girls glanced at each other.

  Glossy-Lips shrugged. “I mean, we don’t know much. She just stopped showing up.”

  Another chimed in — red flannel, hoop earrings. “Her dad’s weird. Maybe she ran away.”

  “She wouldn’t run,” a third girl said — shorter, sharper, biting her thumbnail.

  Kai watched closely.

  Facial tension. Defensive posture. Closed body language.

  Nothing out of the ordinary yet.

  Then Iris shifted. Her voice softened. Less curiosity, more weight.

  “Did she ever mention being scared? Anyone bothering her?”

  The fourth girl, taller with dark braids, looked thoughtful. “Not really. But she stopped hanging with us after that party thing.”

  Iris blinked. “Party?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Some private party. Only rich kids go. Natalie started going a lot. Didn’t invite anyone.”

  Another girl laughed under her breath. “She got weird after that.”

  “Define ‘weird,’” Iris asked.

  “Quieter,” Red Flannel said. “Like she was always thinking about something.”

  “She started carrying that dumb notebook everywhere,” someone added.

  Kai leaned forward.

  Notebook.

  Interesting.

  Then Iris spotted her.

  The fifth girl.

  Standing apart — just a little — near the fence. Long sleeves, eyes down, earbuds in. She hadn’t joined the conversation. Hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t moved.

  But she was listening.

  Iris left the main group and approached her slowly.

  “Hey,” she said.

  The girl looked up. Pale eyes. Too still.

  “I’m not with them,” Iris said quickly.

  The girl didn’t reply.

  “You were friends with Natalie?”

  A small nod.

  Iris studied her posture. Shoulders tight. Hand gripping the strap of her bag. Micro-expressions flashed across her face — hesitation, concern, a blink too slow.

  “She’s not just missing, is she?” the girl whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

  Iris’s voice softened again. “Do you know something?”

  The girl hesitated.

  Then: “No.”

  But the way she said it—

  Too fast.

  Eyes drifted left — the classic micro-tell of a rehearsed answer. Her fingers curled tighter around her strap. Her foot shifted — not away from Iris, but back, like preparing to run.

  Iris narrowed his eyes.

  “She knows more,” Iris said aloud, speaking low, careful — not just for the girl, but for the team listening.

  “Why don’t we talk somewhere quieter?” Iris offered gently.

  The girl looked torn.

  But then — she nodded.

  Back in the command room, Kai folded his arms, eyes still locked on the screen.

  “She’s the one,” Mara said from behind him.

  Jonah exhaled slowly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Felix was already typing. “Running facial ID on the girl now. Let’s get a name.”

  Kai didn’t speak.

  He was already thinking ahead.

  If this girl knew something…

  Then Natalie’s disappearance wasn’t random.

  And this mission — quiet as it was supposed to be — might turn into something far messier.

  The café sat two blocks from the school — a quiet place with low lighting, half-full cups, and just enough jazz in the background to blur conversations into background hum.

  Iris chose a booth near the back, where the windows reflected more than they revealed, and the nearest customer was too focused on their laptop to notice anything.

  The girl slid into the seat across from her, arms wrapped tight around her chest like she was keeping something inside.

  Iris handed her the menu. “Get whatever you like.”

  The girl hesitated. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Just order something. Makes us look normal.”

  After a pause, the girl murmured, “Mocha latte. Large.”

  Iris nodded, then placed both orders with a passing server. No rush. No pressure. Everything in her body language was soft, slow. Like a conversation between friends.

  “You didn’t have to come with me,” Iris said after a moment. “But you did. That means something.”

  The girl said nothing.

  Iris leaned in slightly. “Let me guess… you’re scared to say the wrong thing?”

  Still nothing. But her jaw tightened. A flinch.

  “I get it,” Iris said.

  “I don’t know anything,” the girl muttered.

  Iris gave her a gentle look. “That’s okay. Just tell me what you don’t know.”

  The girl hesitated — then sighed. “I didn’t know Natalie that well. Not like people think.”

  “You were friends.”

  “Kind of. Not close. We were in the same lit group. I saw her after school sometimes. But that’s it.”

  Iris didn’t argue.

  She just stored the words. Not close. Not friends. Same lit group. Three small lies wrapped in truth. The girl had looked at Natalie’s photo like it hurt.

  She remembered the pause, the throat swallow, the too-fast “No.”

  Iris tilted her head, shifting tone slightly.

  “You said something earlier. About her getting weird after the… party?”

  The girl nodded. “She started going to them. Some private house in the hills. I went twice.”

  “Did Natalie invite you?”

  “No. Another girl did.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Just… a party. People drinking. Music.”

  The girl said it too fast again.

  Iris didn’t call her on it.

  She waited. Let silence settle between them like weight.

  The drinks arrived. The girl wrapped her fingers around the mocha, but didn’t drink.

  “Was it just music and drinks?” Iris asked.

  A long pause.

  Then: “Yeah.”

  Iris’s voice dropped — warmer, quieter. “You’re not in trouble. You’re not being recorded. I’m not a cop. But I know when someone’s scared to tell the truth. And I know what it looks like when someone’s seen something they can’t explain.”

  The girl flinched again — this time visibly. Her eyes dropped. She traced the edge of the cup with one finger.

  Iris leaned forward. “You’re shaking. Just a little. You weren’t doing that at the gate.”

  The girl froze.

  “You’re not drinking the mocha,” Iris added. “But you wanted it.”

  Another beat.

  Iris gave her a softer smile. “Look, I don’t need you to confess. I just need to know if Natalie saw something she wasn’t supposed to. Something that scared her.”

  The girl’s eyes lifted slowly.

  “She saw someone,” she whispered.

  Iris didn’t blink. “Who?”

  “I don’t know,” the girl said quickly. “He wasn’t part of the party. He was… watching. From the balcony upstairs. Just standing there.”

  Iris leaned back slightly.

  “And she noticed?”

  The girl nodded. “I remember because she grabbed my arm. Told me not to look. Her whole body changed. She got quiet after that.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  “No. But Natalie went back the next weekend. I didn’t go with her.”

  Iris tapped a finger lightly on the table. “And after that?”

  “She was different. Cold. Nervous. She stopped talking to me completely.”

  The girl’s eyes began to gloss slightly. “I think she knew something was going to happen.

  Iris sat in silence.

  The truth was never in the first answer. Or the second.

  It lived in the pauses. The cracks between words. The reflexes of fear.

  And now, she had something real.

  Not just a name. Not just a place.

  But a pattern.

  Someone at those parties was watching the girls. And Natalie had seen them.

  The elevator doors opened with a muted ding.

  Iris stepped out alone, her boots quiet on the smooth floor. Her jacket was zipped halfway, and the fading dusk behind her made her silhouette feel like it had been carved from smoke.

  Kai looked up from the table the moment she entered.

  The rest of the team turned, already sensing the shift in energy.

  Iris walked straight to the table and placed her phone down next to Kai.

  “A lot of them lied,” she said. “Mostly to protect themselves. Or maybe out of habit. But one of them cracked.”

  “She admitted she went to the party. Only twice. The second time, Natalie saw someone watching from an upper floor — a man. She told the girl not to look at him. Said nothing after that. Shut down completely.”

  Mara leaned forward. “So she was being watched. Not just at the party — before she vanished.”

  “Seems like it,” Iris said.

  Jonah tapped the table. “Did she give a name? A house? Anything?”

  “No name,” Iris said. “But she described the place. Big. Private property in the hills. Expensive, old, and very quiet. No street parking. You only got in if you were invited by someone who’d already been.”

  Felix was already typing. “That narrows it down.”

  Lina pulled up a map on her laptop and rotated the screen. “I can cross-reference any properties in the upper city with restricted road access and no digital event listings. If they’re not advertising or listed, that tells us something.”

  Kai stayed silent for a long moment, letting the details settle into place. The team moved quickly — he could see the rhythm in them now. No longer just teens with specialties. They were becoming something else.

  The room pulsed with quiet momentum.

  “She said Natalie changed after seeing the man?” Kai asked, finally.

  Iris nodded. “Her friend didn’t say it directly. But I could see it in how she described her. Natalie got distant. Fractured. Like she was waiting for something to happen… and it finally did.”

  Darren leaned back. “So we think someone’s targeting girls at these parties?”

  “Or studying them,” Felix muttered.

  Mara folded her arms. “Which is worse?”

  No one answered.

  Kai turned back to the screen.

  Natalie’s photo still sat open on the monitor. Smiling. Still frozen in a moment long gone.

  “She saw something,” Kai said quietly. “And whatever it was… it wasn’t meant to be seen.”

  He turned to the others.

  “Let’s find out who invited her.”

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