The sun hadn’t even risen when her phone buzzed twice.

  Kira, already dressed, sat cross-legged on her mattress, hunched over a small notepad. Her fingers hovered over the keys before she typed out the first message:

  To Elijah:

  Need to check in. Can you dig into those disappearances? Any names you recognize—send them. Will loop you in soon.

  The second went to a contact saved only as “Vi”:

  Need eyes on missing assets. Off-the-grid types. Pattern’s off. Will pay if it’s urgent.

  She paused, watching the cursor blink. Then hit send.

  By the time Mrs. Lily knocked on her door, her boots were laced up and her coat slung over one arm.

  The bakery buzzed with early risers. The scent of butter, flour, and cinnamon clung to her skin as she filled cups, plated pastries, and exchanged quiet smiles with the regulars.

  Mrs. Lily shot her a knowing glance.

  “Your mind’s elsewhere, dear.”

  Kira didn’t deny it. “Just… planning ahead.”

  She stayed through the breakfast rush, her movements calm, practiced. But inside, the same question played over and over—why now? Why were people tied to her past vanishing just as she was rebuilding her future?

  By midmorning, she walked into the university library, her backpack slung low and sleeves rolled up. The quiet here was different—less comforting, more expectant. She made her way toward the public archives tucked into a back corner, rarely visited unless someone was chasing ghosts.

  Which, today, she was.

  She typed "Garrick Industries" into the old newspaper archive system and started scrolling.

  The company’s name appeared again and again—partnerships, government projects, charity galas, international expansions. What caught her eye, though, was something older—an article from nearly two decades ago.

  “Garrick Industries partners with Orell & Stein to revamp Lamburgh's east industrial corridor.”

  CEO Garrick stated, ‘This city built me. I intend to return the favor.’

  Her breath stilled. She remembered that voice. Not clearly—but like a dream you almost remember upon waking. A name at the bottom caught her attention—M. Garrick.

  She blinked, gaze drifting to a faded black-and-white photo beside the article: A tall man standing with a group of city officials. His face turned slightly toward the camera, smile unreadable.

  It wasn’t proof. But it was a whisper.

  She stared a moment longer, then closed the tab.

  On her way out, she nearly escaped campus unseen—until she heard a voice drawl, “Busy day, Sinclair?”

  Sebastian stood beneath a tree not far from the library steps, fingers tapping his phone lazily, though his gaze was pinned to her like he’d been waiting.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Kira’s pace didn’t slow. “Don’t you have girls to dazzle?”

  “Dazzling’s boring when the target’s immune.” He smirked. “What were you reading in there? Something thrilling?”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

  “Come on,” he said, falling into step beside her, just out of arm’s reach. “You’re always moving like the clock’s about to run out.”

  Kira kept walking, eyes ahead. “Some of us have things to do.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “And some of us are trying to figure out what you're doing.”

  Her silence was answer enough.

  He didn’t push further. Just trailed her until they reached the corner of the central square, where she turned and gave him a single glance.

  “Keep guessing.”

  Then she was gone.

  Later that afternoon, the clouds had turned an ominous gray over Lamburgh.

  Kira sat in the back corner of a quiet café, the one she sometimes used for her freelance work or university assignments. Her drink sat untouched as her thumb hovered over her phone, rereading the two new messages.

  Elijah:

  Six names flagged. Three disappeared six months ago, the rest in the last few weeks. All had ties to “previous ventures.” Patterns aren’t clean. One case was ruled a suicide. It wasn’t.

  That alone was enough to stir old instincts. But the second message—the one from Vi—tilted the world.

  Vi:

  Your father's company might not be the only one circling back. One of the missing was last seen near a property under a shell corp—guess who owns it? Orell & Stein. Remember that name? You should. You worked with one of their boys once. The loud one. Red hair, too many teeth.

  Kira blinked, mind reeling.

  She remembered. Briefly, like static between memories—but the boy had been clever with locks, fast on rooftops, and a little too eager to prove himself. That boy had vanished three years ago.

  Orell & Stein wasn’t just another corporate ghost. They were old players—like Garrick Industries—deep-rooted and difficult to trace.

  If they were resurfacing now, and if they were mixed in with her father's web of partnerships, something bigger was happening.

  Bigger than disappearances. Bigger than revenge.

  She stared at her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she typed a quick reply to Elijah. Look deeper. Check every link, especially to Orell & Stein. Something’s off.

  Then, with a heavy breath, she closed the screen and leaned back in her chair, the weight of what was unfolding pressing down on her chest.

  The drive back to her apartment from the city was long and silent, broken only by the low hum of tires on old asphalt. The countryside blurred past, dark green fading into black.

  She couldn’t quiet her mind.

  What if these disappearances weren’t isolated? What if someone was tying up loose ends?

  Kira had grown up among shadows. Her allies had been people like her—unseen, unclaimed, but not unskilled. They had bled for each other, learned together, survived the worst of training and worse betrayals.

  And now… they were going missing.

  Was it personal? Was someone circling her through them?

  If yes, then she wasn’t just running a mission anymore—she was walking back into a trap.

  And the Kings?

  They still didn’t feel like enemies. But they didn’t feel like bystanders either. Not anymore. Their names, their movements, their families—especially Liam’s calculated silence—felt too coincidental.

  Kira didn’t trust coincidences.

  And Elijah… he hadn’t said anything about Orell & Stein. That made her nervous. Not about his loyalty—but about how deep this might go. If even he didn’t see it, maybe she was already behind.

  A couple of days in the old lane, she decided. Visit the past. Confirm who was still alive. Warn whoever she could. And while she was at it—clear the boss. One less tie to manage, one more task off her back.

  Her grip on the wheel tightened.

  So much was coming. She could feel it building. Like the seconds before lightning touches ground.

  The road bent, and the old sign welcoming her back to Lamburgh appeared. Relief flushed through her at the sight of the familiar bakery sign up ahead—its glow soft in the evening dark, like an anchor.

  Kira Sinclair was tired. But not done.

  She parked, leaned her forehead against the steering wheel for just a breath… and let herself long, if only for a moment, for the safety of a warm room, a locked door, and a world that didn’t demand quite so much.

  So now, I want to know from you—has the journey so far kept you hooked?

  If you have made it this far, thank you for reading! Your silent presence is felt and deeply appreciated. But I would love to hear more from you. Just one question today:

  Has the story felt engaging and well-paced so far?

  (Your honest thoughts help shape the next steps.)