Adrian's POV
Kelly was never late, not to briefings, not to check-ins, not to the quiet rituals she pretended didn't matter, morning messages, status confirmations. The necessary video calls even when she was at her busiest during her school research projects.
She had grown up under the same rules I had: to survive, discipline, and routine were not for discomfort, but for armor.
So, when her expected confirmation didn't arrive, I felt it like a hairline fracture in my ribs.
I stood in the control room, hands braced on the table. I stared at the wall of live feeds. Mondrovia glowed back in cold geometry—streets mapped, satellites aligned, biometric trackers pulsing green.
All systems are normal, too normal for the level of unease that I am feeling.
"Run Kelly's last known location again," I said.
Max didn't argue. He was already typing, fingers tapping against the glass interface.
