“They said I was gone,” Sophie whispered. “In the white room. They said I didn’t exist anymore.”
“My father?” Evan asked softly.
“Yes,” Sophie said, eyes wide, mixing fear and anger.
Evan’s mind raced. A billionaire father had publicly declared his child missing, even presumed dead, while she sat on Evan’s couch. They weren’t just missing, they were hiding something.
“We need to move,” Evan said, urgency flaring. “Somewhere they won’t look.”
“Where?” Sophie asked, trembling.
“Somewhere safe,” Evan replied. SHe grabbed a duffel with cash, spare clothing, and a burner phone. Just as they were leaving, heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, too steady, too coordinated.
“They know our names,” Evan muttered. “Quiet.”
The door rattled violently as someone tried to break in. Evan scooped Sophie up and shoved her through the fire escape window. They dropped onto the snow-covered alley, the winter air biting but irrelevant. Behind them, shouted commands and gunshots rang out.
They ran through backstreets, avoiding cameras and passerby, eventually disappearing into the Rivershore Metro. Evan held Sophie close, whispering directions through underground maintenance tunnels he’d explored years ago for previous investigations.
After a tense journey, they reached a hidden network of abandoned service corridors. A familiar figure emerged from the shadows: Duke, a mountain of a man with patchwork coats and a beard like steel wool. He nodded at the child, assessing the danger.
“You brought trouble,” he said simply.
“She’s the story they’re hiding,” Evan replied. “And I have proof.”
Sophie’s bracelet still pulsed faintly, a tracker designed to locate her at a distance. Evan knew it had to be removed. Using a rusted toolbox, he carefully cut the bracelet off, hiding it in a low vent so the signal would be lost in the labyrinth beneath the city.
Hours later, Evan navigated them through a service hatch into the North Harbor Community Hub, an abandoned school-turned-tech center he had once used with his sister. Inside, Sophie explored timidly, pushing a rolling chair across the floor. Evan logged into the old admin system, tracing Hartton Pharmaceuticals’ private network.
Files were horrendous: Project Aegis, children used as genetic templates, notes on experimentation, entire lines marked “closed.” One line chilled Evan to the bone: