Chapter 129

**Calum POV**

“I’m telling you the signal is weak,” I argue back. “I need to get closer to get a precise lock so I don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this?”
“I’m fighting you because I think you’re trying to pull a fast one,” he says as if can see right through me.
So I fix on a somber look to make my expression opaque. “One thing you should at least know by now is that I wouldn’t do anything to risk her life. I want to find her just as much as you do.”
“Ellis,” Torin beckons.
The gladiator-looking guard stomps out with his bandaged hands stiff at his sides.
“And what do you think?”
“The closer we are, the better,” he says, trying to sound objective. “The boy may have a point.”
I make a face. “The who?”
“Alright,” Torin concludes. “We follow this lead and if it doesn’t point back to her—”
“There's nothing worse that could do to me if we find her and she’s hurt or worse.”
Torin smirks devilishly. “I wouldn’t count on that.”
***
The convoy of G-Wagons roar through the countryside, engines humming with a low, feral growl that reverberates through the crisp air. Dust kicks up from the dirt road, billowing like a golden cloud under the setting sun. The grassy fields on either side of the path roll out like an endless carpet, dotted with wildflowers and weather-beaten fences that stretch into the distance.
An open laptop on my lap as the rugged vehicles advance, the road narrows, curving through dense patches of trees whose gnarled branches arched overhead, casting shifting shadows across the convoy. Sunlight flickers through the canopy, dappling the sleek, polished exteriors of the G-Wagons in a spectrum of light and shadow. Inside the cars, leather seats creak as the heavy duty men shift, the atmosphere heavy with a sense of purpose.
Ellis is glaring at me like I’m his son and I broke the TV just before a huge game or something. I try to ignore it by angling my shoulders so I’m facing more away from him. What I know is what they don’t and that is that I hacked into the surveillance feed of the motel—at least those that were operational. I saw Hadassah, Emilia and a group of women descend early in the morning just after midnight. And I saw Emilia and Hadassah leave just hours before intelligent officials came to collect and transport them away.
I get a hit. A different kind of ping. I set this trap days ago, feeding it into the endless labyrinth of surveillance networks, waiting for the moment it would finally strike. I pivot so my rear is completely leaning against the inside of the backseat door, trying to pull a comfortable move with my elbow on the window cill to stave off suspicion. Fortunately, Ellis is not paying attention to me because he’s trading curt words with his men up in front.
With one tap on the keyboard, a window expands across the screen. A single tab opens, and the live feed from an ATM camera materializes in grainy grayscale. Static clears for a second, and there she is—her figure barely distinct in the low resolution, but it’s unmistakably her. Emilia is standing near the machine, hair falling over her face before she tucks it away before she makes heart-stopping eye contact with the camera, aware of the eternal eye watching from behind layers of digital glass.
I fight to restrain my excitement. The algorithm I crafted did its job—of course it did. I coded it, threading itself through a network of bank systems, cross-referencing facial recognition databases, tapping into public cameras that encircle every street corner and commercial hub. Emilia then makes a bizarre gesture, pointing at herself, then casually trying to signal to her background—her environment. And so I’m guessing she wants me to find where exactly she is.
The system’s pinpoint precision grabs the feed from the nearest ATM camera, which I notice is just down the block from a hospital. The GPS coordinate pings—geolocating her position to within a few meters of the hospital’s emergency entrance.
My eyes flicker to the metadata: timestamp accurate to the millisecond, the surrounding device IDs synced from nearby networks, the camera’s connection tagged in yellow, and her face highlighted within a thin red box. A quick gesture drags the feed to another screen. Behind her, blurry figures move in and out of the hospital doors.
With a rapid series of keystrokes, I log into a remote node, rerouting through layers of encrypted VPNs, each hop burning milliseconds of delay but keeping my location concealed this time—can’t afford another security breach. The camera feed updates in real-time, small details becoming clear—her lips are moving. She is likely talking to Hadassah, who is out of frame.
“Change of plan,” I announce, typing random shit on my keyboard to look seriously busy. “There was an incident at the motel I tracked them at. Some kind of attack, yeah. And in the police report, they detail profiles, one of them with descriptions matching Hadassah.”
“Where is she now?” he questions, trying to remain level-headed.
I feign despair, pushing out a shaky breath. “Hospital, not far off from the motel.”
Ellis goes on comms to inform everyone and waits for Torin’s okay—who is two cars ahead of us. Eventually, the trees begin to thin, and the road straightens as we near the settlement. A lonely cluster of buildings appear on the horizon, a modest town barely clinging to the edge of civilization. The most prominent structure is a weathered motel, perched on the outskirts. Its faded neon sign buzzed weakly, casting a faint glow over the gravel lot that surrounds it.
We pass it.
Engines rumble low as the convoy pulls up to the hospital's entrance, the vehicles forming a tight formation in the dim light of early evening. The G-Wagons grind to a halt, and the doors slam open in quick succession. Casually attired guards spill out, their boots thudding heavily on the asphalt as they fan out with precision, weapons concealed on their persons as we reunite with Torin. And I close the slim laptop, tucking it underneath my armpit.
“Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks with an unreadable expression.
I nod eagerly. “She’s in there. I just don’t know where.”
He nods calmly, then flags over one of the guards. “You’re with us.”
“Boss,” Ellis objects with a sense of betrayal.
“It was a courtesy to even have you here,” Torin reproaches, eyes narrowing behind his designer shades. “You can’t even pull a trigger yet,” he says with eyes gesturing to his bandaged hands. “I need you in an observation capacity—that’s all. I want you and the others to establish a perimeter and block every exit from basement to rooftop. No more fucking surprises. This time, we’ll be ready for anything that pops off.”
The squad moves with silent efficiency. Groups of five peels off immediately, sweeping along the perimeter of the hospital grounds. Their eyes scan the surroundings—sharp, calculated, taking in every detail. Razor wire fence along the back, overgrown hedges to the west, and the looming shadow of the hospital tower, standing like a fortress under the muted glow of streetlights. Their comms crackle with static as quiet commands are exchanged. They post at key entry points, locking down the area with an iron grip, ensuring no one slips in or out unnoticed.