Cash Baker sprawled on the leather couch, eyes half-shut, still haunted by the video from the night before. Maverick sat on the edge of the piano bench, arms folded, jaw tight. The silence between them was louder than any song they'd ever played.
"Did you watch it again?" Maverick asked, voice low, careful.
Cash hummed, dragging a hand through his messy hair. "I mean… who wouldn't? It's her. Cypriana. She's alive."
Maverick's hands tightened into fists. "Alive doesn't mean safe. And it doesn't mean she's coming back for us, either."
Cash flopped back against the couch, grinning with that reckless charm that had always annoyed Maverick. "Come on, man. You've been brooding over her leaving for three years. Maybe it's time to stop brooding and… you know, do something."
Maverick leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Do what? Chase ghosts?"
A low laugh echoed from the doorway. Mychael Torres appeared, coffee cup in hand, a notebook tucked under his arm. "Or maybe stop arguing and figure out what the hell she's trying to tell us."
Cash shot him a look. "You've been acting like a conspiracy theorist since last night."
Mychael shrugged. "And yet the message in the track is real. You two just can't hear it yet."
He set the notebook on the piano and flipped it open, pointing to scribbles Cash hadn't noticed. "Look here. Listen."
Cash leaned in, headphones in place, and pressed play. The familiar melody filled the room. But this time, something new emerged — faint, almost imperceptible, buried in the harmonics: a single repeated phrase.
"Find me where silence sleeps."
Cash froze, eyes wide. "That's… her?"
Maverick's lips pressed into a thin line. "She left that for us. Or someone did."
Flashback – Maverick's Memory
Three years ago. Maverick stood in the rain at the train station, holding the umbrella too small to keep him dry. Cypriana had stood under it, drenched, backpack clutched to her chest. He had been the last to see her, the last to touch her hand.
"I have to go," she said, voice trembling.
"Why?" Maverick had asked, gripping her sleeve.
Cypriana's eyes glistened. "Because silence… sometimes saves more than words ever could."
She had let go, stepping onto the train. He had stayed behind, soaked and helpless, watching the last curve of the train disappear into mist.
The memory made his chest ache even now. The same ache that made him protective, suspicious, and furious all at once.
Back in the studio, Cash paced, muttering under his breath. "Silent? Sleeping? What the hell does that even mean?"
Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not supposed to make sense yet. We just—observe. Wait. Figure it out before rushing in and screwing everything up."
Mychael cleared his throat. "And you're really just gonna sit here while someone's clearly trying to communicate? Guys, there's a pattern — look at the waveform. It repeats every four beats. Every fourth word — it's like Morse code in music."
Kate Marie entered quietly, holding her camera like a shield. She had been reviewing the latest batch of photos she'd taken for Cash's social media. "Guys… it's not just the song. Some of my files got deleted. Photos from the day we recorded the new track — all gone except one."
She placed the camera on the piano, scrolling to the remaining image: a blurred, overexposed shot of a hallway, empty except for a shadow in the corner.
Cash leaned closer, squinting. "Is that…?"
Kate shook her head. "I don't know. But it's like someone wanted it gone. And only this one remains."
Maverick stepped closer, examining it. His heart skipped. The shape reminded him of… her. Or at least, the way she used to linger in doorways, watching silently.
Flashback – Cash's Memory
He was seventeen. Cypriana leaned against the oak tree behind the school, scribbling furiously in her notebook.
"You ever feel like no one really listens?" she asked.
"Sometimes," Cash admitted. "But people notice you. That's enough, right?"
Her hands trembled slightly as she doodled. "Not when it matters. You'll see. One day, you'll realize it's the silent ones who matter most."
Cash had laughed, but now her words echoed in every mysterious lyric, every silence in the songs he played.
Back in the present, the tension in the room was thick. Mychael broke it with a muttered, "We're being watched."
Maverick froze. "Excuse me?"
"I mean it," Mychael said. "I've been feeling it for days. Strange clicks, shadows in the footage, noises in the studio when no one's there. Someone's monitoring this… maybe more than just us and the music."
Cash's eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and fear. "So… it's real. She's real. And someone's warning us… or setting us up."
Maverick ran a hand down his face. "Or both."
The room went silent. Then, faintly, a ping on the computer. Another message. Another video file.
The screen flickered.
It was Cypriana again. Only this time, it was a close-up of her eyes, calm, piercing, unreadable.
No words. No sound. Just her gaze.
Cash's breath caught. "She's… she's telling us something."
Maverick didn't move. He just stared, remembering the last time he saw her, remembering the words she'd whispered as she left, and knowing this was far from over.
Kate Marie whispered, barely audible, "We need to find her before it finds us."
The room felt colder. Shadows stretched along the walls. The faint hum of the equipment sounded like whispers in the dark.
And for the first time in years, the brothers realized: the game had begun.