I had barely stepped out of my car when my phone rang.
"Nico," I answered without looking at the screen. It was almost always Nico who called at this hour, especially now that we're both neck-deep in this mess.
But this time… Nico's voice was not calm.
"Lance… Selena's missing."
My feet froze.
"What do you mean missing?"
"She didn't show up this morning for questioning again. We tried to contact her. Nothing. Her agency thought she was with us. Her family hasn't seen her since last night."
My stomach dropped. "She told me she was being called in today again. That was the last thing she said to me."
"She never made it here," Nico said gravely. "Her last known location was en route to the NBI office… after that, her phone went dead."
"CCTV?"
"We're pulling nearby footage now. But so far, it's a black hole."
I clutched my keys so tightly i felt the metal dig into my palm. "This isn't just a coincidence anymore."
"Exactly. Aurora got framed. Selena's name was dragged. Then just when Selena gets cleared—she disappears?" Nico sounded pissed. "Someone's trying to erase loose ends."
"Shit." I turned around and got back into my car. "Send me everything. I'm coming there now."
I drove faster than i should've.
Every red light was an irritant.
Every slow car in front of me felt like it was part of the conspiracy.
Selena was missing.
Aurora had only just gotten out of that hellhole. Now this.
Was this some kind of goddamn pattern? Frame one. Clear her. Frame the next. Clear her. Then poof, gone.
I parked like a madman outside the NBI compound and rushed in, ignoring the receptionist and bypassing the waiting area.
Nico met me halfway down the corridor, brows furrowed, eyes heavy.
"She's really gone," Nico confirmed, almost like i didn't want to say it again.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Tell me you have something."
"We traced her phone until 11:32 PM last night. She was on her way to the building. Then it just… stopped. Like it was shut off manually. Not dead battery. Not signal loss. It was intentional."
"What about the streets?" I demanded.
"There has to be cameras along the road—toll gates, traffic lights, private businesses."
Nico nodded. "We got a few. Most showed her car moving like normal. Alone. No signs of anyone following her. But then..." he motioned for me to follow him into the viewing room.
On the monitor was a street cam. Dull lighting. Grainy quality.
"Here's 11:28," Nico said, tapping the screen. "That's her car."
I leaned in. The familiar black SUV moved through the frame.
"Then 11:29… gone."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
I cursed under my breath and raked a hand through my hair. "This doesn't make sense."
But things were about to get even stranger.
"I pulled up another video. From the building itself," Nico said grimly. "The same hallway where Luis was seen the night before."
I clicked to another feed. A corridor inside the private floor, where access was strictly controlled. Only a handful of people had authorization there.
"This is the angle from outside the VIP conference room," Nico explained. "Now watch this."
A timestamp: 10:14 PM.
The door to the room burst open. Luis stepped out, clearly agitated. His mouth was moving, arguing with someone behind the door.
His hands gestured aggressively, and his shoulders were tense.
Then, just as he turned, another man walked out.
I narrowed my eyes.
He looked ordinary. That was the problem.
Plain black hoodie. Jeans. Baseball cap pulled low. No tattoos. No distinguishing features. No company ID. No visible weapon. Just… blank.
His face didn't register anything.
No fear. No arrogance. No emotion.
Just… still.
I paused the video and leaned closer. "Do we have facial recognition?"
Nico shook his head. "Nothing. It's like he doesn't exist."
"You checked internal entry logs?"
"He's not listed. Luis was the only one officially allowed in there last night."
"So he sneaked in?"
"Or someone let him in, and scrubbed the logs."
I rewound the footage and played it again.
Luis was visibly angry.
The kind of anger that wasn't performance. The kind that came from deep frustration or fear.
Then the stranger followed. Walked right past the camera. No glance. No hesitation. Like he knew exactly where the blind spots were.
"He never looked up," I muttered. "He knew the camera was there."
"Exactly."
I backed away from the monitor. "We're looking at the wrong people."
"What do you mean?"
"All this time we were focused on Aurora, Selena, and even Luis. But this guy?" I pointed at the frozen image. "He's not a player. He's the puppeteer."
Nico looked at me, stunned silent for a second.
"Jesus," he muttered. "You think he's been behind everything?"
"I think…" I swallowed. "I think we've been two steps behind someone who doesn't want to be seen. And now that Selena's cleared, he erased her before she could talk."
"Erase?" Nico echoed, alarmed. "You think she's dead?"
I clenched my jaw. "I don't want to believe that. But it's been hours. And this guy doesn't leave traces."
"Then we better pray she's still alive."
We stood there in silence for a moment—until my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He answered. "Hello?"
There was static at first. Then—
"Don't look for her."
The voice was disguised.
Modulated. Electronic.
"She's not yours to save."
Click.