The lab was buzzing with electric tension. I watched as Mr. Francoise's hand trembled slightly while he pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen to connect to the lab's CCTV feed. The usual hum of machines felt heavier now, like the whole room was holding its breath.
On the monitor, a flickering black-and-white image caught my attention. A shadowy silhouette slipped just beyond the edge of the camera's view, moving with deliberate stealth. The figure's outline was vague, but there was no mistaking it. Someone was inside the lab who shouldn't be here.
Professor Aldrin's eyes narrowed as he scanned the live feed. He quickly stepped over to the area the robot had just indicated. His footsteps were quiet but urgent, his gaze sharp as he examined the corner where the shadow had disappeared.
Nico's jaw tightened as he closed the heavy chamber door behind him. The metallic clang echoed with finality. It was a security measure, a physical lock to protect what mattered most. Beside him, I stayed close to the prototype robot, standing like a living shield.
The robot's glowing eyes scanned the room, its sensors tracking every movement with unblinking precision. It was calm, steady, ready to act if needed. Its presence was a silent warning: this secret could not be compromised.
Voices murmured in hushed panic just outside the chamber. The weight of the breach pressed down hard. Years of work, the future of technology, now all at risk because someone had dared to sneak in.
Mr. Francoise glanced toward Nico and me, his expression grim. "We can't let anyone find out what's really here," he said quietly. "Not yet. Not ever."
And with that, the lab tightened its defenses, every second ticking toward an uncertain fate.
Mr. Francoise took a deep breath, his face tightening with resolve. He glanced at us and said, "I'm heading to the main control room. I need to trace that intruder's movements. If we don't find out where he's headed, this could get out of hand fast."
Professor Aldrin nodded, adjusting his glasses as he replied, "We'll make sure the prototype goes back into stasis safely. Nico, Nyx, keep it secure. I'll assist with the shutdown procedures."
Nico looked at the prototype standing still beside me, then turned back to Francoise. "Be careful. We don't know what this guy wants or how far he's willing to go."
Francoise gave a tight smile. "Neither do I. But I'm the best shot we've got to track him down before he does any damage."
With that, Mr. Francoise strode toward the exit, his phone still in hand, already tapping commands to monitor security systems throughout the facility.
I watched him leave and then turned to Nico. "We have to keep the prototype safe, no matter what. This is bigger than any of us."
Nico nodded, his fingers already moving across the control panel. "Let's put her into sleep mode, back where she belongs. Then we follow Francoise's lead."
Professor Aldrin bent over the prototype's interface, beginning the shutdown sequence. The room's tension remained thick, but in these quiet moments, everyone knew their roles.
The prototype's lights dimmed slowly as the systems powered down, the soft hum fading into silence.
I looked at Nico and Aldrin. "Once she's safe, we catch up with Francoise. This isn't over."
Mr. Francoise sat hunched over the console, eyes darting between multiple feeds as he cycled through the lab's security footage again and again. The control room was dim, lit mostly by the glow of the monitors and the steady blink of status lights. The silence was sharp, every second stretching like a thread pulled too tight.
When we entered, the three of us didn't have to say a word. The look on his face told us everything. His lips were pressed into a hard line, jaw set tight, eyes shadowed with frustration. He leaned back slowly, then ran a hand through his thinning hair.
"Nothing," he muttered. "I've checked every corner, every possible route he could've taken. There's no trace of him. No forced doors. No tripped sensors. Just that single blurry silhouette from the hallway camera."
Nico stepped forward, leaning over the monitor. "Replay it again."
Francoise tapped the screen. The image looped back, grainy, static-ridden, and fleeting. The figure barely visible, just a flicker of movement before disappearing out of frame.
"He knew where the cameras were," Aldrin said quietly, standing behind us. "Look at his path. He cuts through the hallway at just the right angle, right between the fields of view. No hesitation."
"He didn't just know the placements," I added, watching closely. "He knew the timing. When the cameras shift, where the overlaps are weakest. This isn't someone wandering around."
Francoise sighed, then looked over his shoulder. "We need to make it look like nothing happened. No alarms. No suspicion. If he's still watching, we can't let him think we're on edge."
Nico gave him a sharp glance. "You want us to just... pretend?"
"For now, yes," Francoise replied. "We don't go back into the chamber. Not until we sweep the systems again and check for remote taps. If he managed to get in here, there's a chance he left something behind."
"What about the prototype?" I asked, my voice low.
"She's powered down and secure," Aldrin said, reassuring but cautious. "We just make it seem like everything's normal."
Francoise turned back to the monitors, his voice steadier now. "Whoever it was, they weren't just curious. They knew what they were looking for. They moved too precisely, too efficiently. This is someone who's been here before. Maybe someone from inside. Maybe someone we thought was long gone."
"Or someone we never noticed," I murmured.
"Exactly," Francoise nodded. "For now, we play the long game. We tighten our net, monitor all systems. No reaction, no sudden moves. We let them think they got away with it."
Nico's expression was tight, jaw grinding in silent frustration. "And if they come back?"
Francoise narrowed his eyes, gaze locked on the frozen image of the blurry figure. "Then this time, we'll be ready."
The tension from the control room still clung to the air as we walked out together, but Francoise had made it clear, act normal. Whoever it was had vanished without a trace, and panicking would only tip our hand. So, we decided to call it a day.
The corridors were eerily quiet as we left the lab, the hum of lights and distant machinery echoing louder in the silence. It was the middle of summer break. No students, no bustling foot traffic. Just a handful of professors, researchers, and authorized personnel on campus. That narrowed the list, but it didn't make anything easier.
Nico and I didn't say much on the way home. We walked side by side, pretending to be at ease. But I could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers occasionally clenched and released by his side. I wasn't any better. My mind kept circling back to the flickering silhouette on that grainy screen.
At home, we kept the act going.
Nico flopped down on the couch, grabbing the remote like it was any other day, flipping through channels without really watching anything. I brought us something to drink and sat beside him, curling my legs under me, trying to pretend I wasn't watching him more than the TV.
"We're supposed to relax, right?" he said suddenly, eyes still fixed on the screen.
"Yeah," I replied softly. "Like nothing happened."
He gave a short breath that could've been a laugh, or maybe just an exhausted exhale. "You think Francoise really believes that guy's gone for now?"
"No," I said. "I think he's just buying time. Watching. Waiting."
Nico finally turned to me, his voice low. "And what if the intruder comes back before we're ready?"
I looked down at the drink in my hand, swirling the ice gently. "Then we protect what matters. We always do."
He didn't say anything for a moment, just leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. I reached over, took his hand, and held it tightly.
We were pretending. But beneath the calm surface, we both knew, we were already at war with a ghost hiding in plain sight.
Somewhere in a high-rise hotel, late night
The curtains were half drawn, city lights flickering across the sheets like scattered stars. The room was a blend of warmth and sweat, their bodies tangled lazily under expensive linen. Kayla propped herself on one elbow, cigarette between her fingers, a slow smile playing on her lips.
The man beside her reached for her waist, but she gave him a gentle shove, not enough to push him away, just enough to remind him who was in control.
"You really think it's gonna work?" he asked, voice low, still breathless.
She took a drag, exhaled slowly. "Of course it's going to work," she said coolly. "He trusts her. Nico's always been that way. Gets soft when he thinks someone gives a damn."
"And the girl?" he asked, raising a brow. "She's… different."
Kayla chuckled, shaking her head. "She's smart. Sweet. Too pure for this game. And that's exactly why she won't see it coming."
She leaned closer, tracing a line down his chest with the tip of her nail. "All I have to do is drop the right seed. Get close enough. Maybe make her doubt him. Maybe make him think twice."
The man gave her a look. "And if that doesn't work?"
She smiled wider, her eyes gleaming like a blade unsheathed.
"Then I burn it all. The lab. The prototype. Her. Let Nico crawl back to me when there's nothing left but ash."
He blinked, half amused, half disturbed. "You're insane, you know that?"
Kayla leaned back, arms behind her head, the picture of calm cruelty.
"Maybe," she said softly. "But you don't play nice when you've already been thrown away."
The air was still thick with heat, but Kayla moved like she was already done playing. She slid out of bed without a word, her skin glowing under the soft amber light, ignoring the man she'd left behind, one hand clenching the sheets, lips parted in silent frustration. She didn't look back.
She padded across the room, bare feet soundless on the marble floor, and reached for the silk robe draped over the chair. Her phone buzzed on the glass table. One glance at the screen and that wicked smirk curved her lips again.
She answered with a purr in her voice, "Took you long enough."
There was a breath on the other end, then a voice, shaky, low, like the caller hadn't slept in days.
"I saw it," he whispered. "Kayla, I----I think it was awake. Just like you said it would be. It was looking at me."
She arched a brow, tying the robe loosely at her waist, slowly walking back toward the wide city window.
"You sure you weren't just seeing things?" she teased, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"No. No, it saw me. I swear. I was in and out before they could trace me, but… that thing----it was aware."
Kayla chuckled, cold and sweet like a poisoned dessert.
"Good," she said, voice like velvet dipped in arsenic. "That means it's working. You've done your part, baby. Just stay quiet and stay put."
There was a pause, then his voice came through again, softer, desperate. "Kayla… what exactly are you planning to do with it?"
She turned, looking at her reflection in the glass, tilting her head with a faint, amused glint in her eyes.
"Whatever I want."
And just like that, she ended the call.
She tossed the phone onto the bed, not sparing a glance at the man still lying there, confused, unsatisfied, forgotten. She stepped onto the balcony, letting the wind hit her face as her robe fluttered gently around her legs. Below her, the city kept breathing. Unaware. Unprepared.
Just how she liked it.
The city pulsed beneath her like a living thing, its heartbeat echoing through the streets. Kayla leaned over the railing, one hand clutching her wine glass, the other resting lightly on the edge. Her eyes didn't blink as they stared into the skyline, but her mind wasn't out there. It was far behind her. And far ahead.
"He was supposed to be mine," she whispered to herself, lips brushing the rim of the glass. "Long before she came into the picture. Long before he ever smiled like that at anyone else."
She took a slow sip, her expression calm but hollow. "He used to look at me like that too. Back then, when things were simple. When I didn't have to fight just to be seen. I was the one who made him laugh. I was the one who knew what he needed before he even said it."
Her fingers tapped the glass, her voice curling with venom and longing. "Then she came. Like some savior from the stars, with her clean hands and perfect little mind. And suddenly, I was the past. A mistake."
A sharp laugh escaped her throat, echoing into the wind.
"I thought it was over. I tried to let it go. But then---" her eyes narrowed, "---then the prototype showed up again. Nico's little secret. And somehow, like a gift from the gods, it landed in my hands. A message. A sign. Like the universe was finally setting things right."
She grinned, teeth barely visible behind her wine glass.
"Do you think it was a coincidence? That he built that thing and hid it? That he poured his soul into it… and the blueprint just happened to fall into the wrong hands?" She shook her head slowly. "No. No, that was meant for me. A reminder of who he really is. Of what we had. And how easily I can rip it all away."
She turned, walking back into the room. Her eyes fell on the bed, on the man still sprawled across it, used and useless.
"I don't want to destroy her just to watch her fall," she murmured, more to herself than him. "I want her to know. I want her to feel it. The way I did. When he stopped looking at me like I mattered."
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she reached for her phone again.
"He's coming back to me. Whether he knows it or not."
After the call with Kayla:
His heart hammered in his chest, a wild rhythm fueled by unease and something darker, fear he wasn't ready to admit. He never imagined the woman he met once outside that hotel door held such a dangerous power, one that could unravel everything in a single glance.
He was rushing, papers clutched tight, when he stumbled, scattering them on the ground. She stepped out without looking, and they collided, the world narrowing to the sharp edge of surprise and frustration.
Her voice cut through the air, sharp and irritated at first, but when her eyes caught sight of one document, Nico's name clearly printed, something changed. The sharpness in her tone softened into something colder, something that sent a chill deep inside him.
She pulled him inside before he could think twice. What followed was a haze of sensations, pleasure and manipulation so tangled he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. He wanted to resist, to pull away, but his body betrayed him, craving her in a way that left his mind at war with itself.
When he woke, the papers were gone. Only a note remained on the table: Call me when you wake up.
Since then, his thoughts have been a battlefield. Part of him knows he should run, break free from the web she's spun. But another part, darker and more desperate, pulls him back. Her voice, her scent, the way she moves through his mind, it's addictive. He doubts every choice but can't seem to find the strength to say no.
He's trapped between wanting to escape and needing her, caught in a dangerous dance with a woman who holds all the cards.