Page 23

Myall

Lingering by the window of the hidden tech lab, my gaze is drawn to the distant glow of the city lights.

It’s been three weeks since Ziva disabled my NeuroMod.

Three weeks of experiencing life in vivid color instead of muted grays.

Each surge of exhilaration is tinged with the ghost of past apathy, memories of dull compliance haunting my thoughts like shadows.

“We’re making progress,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

Ziva’s fingers twitch, her brows knitting as she concentrates on the delicate components before her.

She looks up from the workbench where she’s tinkering with spare NeuroMod parts. “What was that?”

I turn to face her, drinking in the sight of her long brown hair falling over her shoulder as she works. My chest tightens. “I said we’re making progress. You, me, Marcus—we’re building something here. A real resistance.”

She nods, her entire face lighting up. “Damn right we are. And we’re just getting started.”

I clear my throat. “I…also overheard something at work today. Something big.”

Ziva’s eyebrows shoot up as her hands still. “What is it?”

“There are rumors circulating that The Authority is developing a new type of NeuroMod. Something more invasive, with deeper neural integration. I think it has something to do with that repair request from Regent Colvin we were assigned to work on. If they succeed, it’ll be nearly impossible to disable them like we’ve been planning. ”

“Shit,” Ziva breathes. Her fingers clench around the screwdriver she’s holding. “That changes things.”

I nod grimly. “We can’t afford to waste any time,” I say, my voice tight. “We need to stop this—before it’s too late.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with whoever stole the blueprints to the NeuroMod framework?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Yeah, I think so,” is all I say.

Marcus paces the cramped space, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Then we need to intercept the plans for this new NeuroMod,” he says, his voice growing urgent. “If we can get our hands on the schematics, maybe we can find a weakness and an easier way to disable them.”

I nod, leaning against a workbench. “I know. But how do we get access? Security’s tightened after the breach. There’s no way we would be able to access anything now.”

Ziva’s eyes light up. “What if we create a diversion? Trigger a malfunction elsewhere to draw attention away from what we’re doing?”

“That could work,” I muse, the idea catching hold of me.

Marcus interjects, “We could also try hacking into their system remotely. It’ll take time since none of us are exactly hackers, but it’s much safer.”

As we debate strategies, an idea strikes. “Wait,” I say, interrupting the discussion.

“What about Kellan? He’s always voicing his opinion about The Authority when he thinks no ones paying attention, he might be willing to join us.”

Ziva’s eyes meet mine, brows furrowing. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. You mentioned he’s quite open about his opinion, which would make him noticeable to The Authority if they get wind about what we’re doing.”

We start brainstorm ways to intercept the plans for the new NeuroMods—none of them any good when I notice Ziva fidgeting, her gaze darting to her bag. There’s something she’s not saying.

When Marcus steps out for a moment to use the bathroom, Ziva turns to me, her voice almost a whisper. “Myall, I need to tell you something.”

Why is it when she says that, my stomach drops. “What is it?”

She takes a deep breath. “I… I stole a NeuroMod. One that’s still linked to a citizen.”

A cold weight settles in my gut.“Ziva, we talked about this. The risks—”

“I know,” she cuts me off, her eyes pleading. “But I had to. It’s the only way I can perfect the deactivation process. We need this, Myall.”

Her gaze drops, and she bites her lip, a flush creeping up her neck as the weight of her confession hangs between us. I open my mouth to protest, but the fire in her eyes tells me it’s pointless. And deep down, I know she’s right.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Just… be more careful, okay? If anything happened to you…”

Ziva’s eyes soften, a flicker of something I can’t quite name passing through them. “I will be,” she says, keeping her voice low. “But we can’t afford to play it safe anymore.”

My chest tightens. I want to protect her, keep her from harm, but I know that’s not what she needs. Not what any of us need right now.

“Show me,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

She nods, reaching into her bag to pull out the stolen NeuroMod. It looks innocuous enough, but it feels like a ticking time bomb in our midst.

“Ziva,” I start, unable to keep the worry from my voice, “if they trace this back to you—”

“They won’t,” she interrupts, her tone sharp. “I’ve taken precautions. Trust me, Myall.”

I do trust her. That’s not the problem. It’s the system I don’t trust, the unseen eyes always watching. “And if something goes wrong?”

She meets my gaze, unflinching. “Then we’ll deal with it. Together, like you said.”

A jolt runs through me at her words, the weight of ‘we’ sinking in. I watch as she begins to fiddle with the NeuroMod, her nimble fingers tracing over its surface. Despite my fear, I can’t help but admire her focus, her determination.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” I ask, leaning in closer.

“Recreate the glitch,” she murmurs, eyes never leaving the device. “If I can figure out how to trigger it consistently, we can free more people.”

I nod, watching her work. As I observe her, I’m struck by her quiet beauty—the way her dark lashes frame her eyes, the slight flush that tints her cheeks. Her bottom lip is slightly fuller than her top one and my eyes are drawn to that detail every time she bites her lip.

“There,” she says suddenly pulling me from my dangerous thoughts. “I think I’ve got it.”

I hold my breath as Ziva activates the NeuroMod, expecting to see the familiar flickering spark that signals deactivation.

Instead, the device emits a high-pitched whine, its screen flashing an angry red.

The whine pierces through the stillness, a shrieking alarm that vibrates through my bones, each pulse matching the frantic beat of my heart.

“No, no, no,” Ziva mutters, her fingers frantically dancing across the circuitry. “This isn’t right.”

The alarm intensifies, and I feel my heart rate spike. “Ziva, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” she says, frustration evident in her voice. “It’s like they’ve added some kind of new failsafe. If I can’t shut it down—”

“It could alert the authorities,” I finish, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

We lock eyes, the gravity of the situation settling over us. In that moment, I see a flicker of doubt in Ziva’s usually confident gaze, and it spurs me into action.

I race through all the possible outcomes if we can’t deactivate this NeuroMod. We could be discovered, arrested, or worse. The thought of Enforcers storming in, dragging us away into the night, tightens my chest, each scenario worse than the last.

“Okay, think,” I say, brushing my hair from my eyes. “What if we… what if we overloaded it?”

Ziva’s eyes widen. “Overload it? That could work, but we’d need—”

“A power surge,” we say in unison.

Without hesitation, I dash to the corner of the lab, rummaging through a box of discarded tech. “Here,” I call out, holding up a small battery pack. “Will this do?”

Ziva nods, her focus razor-sharp once more. “Perfect. Quick, bring it here.”

I dart back, slamming the battery pack into her hands.

“Hold this,” she orders, thrusting the shrieking NeuroMod into my grip. “And whatever you do, don’t drop it.”

The whine continues to grow louder and more persistent, almost drowning out our frantic movements. I watch, heart pounding, as Ziva connects the battery pack to the NeuroMod. For a terrifying moment, nothing happens. Then, with a sudden burst of light and a sharp crack, the device goes dark.

A wave of tension ebbs from my chest as I catch Ziva’s gaze. Her face mirrors my relief. We stare at each other, breathless. A shared sigh of relief escapes us, and our shoulders slump. Rubbing the back of my neck, I try to calm my racing heart.

“That was fucking scary,” Ziva whispers, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” I mutter, still feeling shaken by how easily things could have gone wrong if we hadn’t been able to deactivate the NeuroMod.

As the adrenaline fades, I’m struck by how close we’re standing, how easy it would be to lean in and—

The lab door swings open with a creak, and we jump apart. Marcus steps in, his eyes darting between us and the smoking NeuroMod.

“What did I miss?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Ziva and I exchange a quick glance, unsure how much we should tell him.

“What happened?” he asks, gesturing to the smoking device.

“We had a bit of a mishap,” Ziva says, stepping forward to take the blame. “I accidentally overloaded it while trying to deactivate it.”

Marcus nods thoughtfully, examining the device. “Well, at least you were able to shut it down. We’ll have to be more careful in the future.”

* * *

As I enter the brightly-lit workroom, the hum of machinery fills the air.

I slide into my chair, fingers trembling as I access the Sentinel system, my heart pounding with the fear of what I might find.

The screen’s glow reflects my unease as I scan the reports, paranoid that Ziva’s little mishap last night is documented in the system. Fortunately, it isn’t.

I can’t stop thinking about last night’s close call as I monitor the compliance feeds, my eyes keep drifting to Ziva across the aisle. She catches my gaze and gives me a subtle smile, soft yet defiant—like a flicker of hope in the shadows.

“Hey,” Marcus’s voice startles me. He leans in, pretending to check my screen. “I think I’ve found someone,” he whispers.

My breath catches. “Who?”

“New transfer, Yenna Reeves. I’ve noticed her hesitating before her weekly mood adjustments. Could be nothing, but…”

I nod, understanding. It’s a start. “Good pick up. If we approach her, we’ll have to do it carefully.”

As Marcus walks off, I catch Ziva’s eye. She tilts her head, questioning. I offer a small smile, hoping it reassures her.

Trying to refocus on the compliance feeds, my mind keeps circling back to the risk of approaching Yenna.

What if she betrays us? The thought sends a chill through me.

Maybe it’s better if only one of us speaks with her—like Ziva did with Marcus.

That way, if we get caught, only one of us would face arrest.

The lights flicker as I make my way to the exit at the end of my shift. I catch sight of Ziva, her silhouette framed by the fading light of dusk, and my heart lifts at the sight of her.

She falls into step beside me, and we head towards my grandmother’s house for our weekly visit.

We decided to start visiting Grandma Elara mid-week instead so we could use our day off working with Marcus in the lab.

I can tell that Ziva is eager to hear about what Marcus said to me earlier, but she’ll have to wait until we are out of earshot from any prying eyes or ears.

“I have someone in mind who could potentially join our trio and make us a…whatever the proper term for four people is,” Ziva says quietly as we walk.

“Quartet,” I reply automatically as we stop to let a passing vehicle by before crossing the street.

I wonder if it’s the same person Marcus suggested.

As we resume walking, I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on us. A prickling sensation races down my spine, and I glance around, every sound amplified—the rustle of leaves, the distant sound of patrol drones. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, instincts telling me that something is off.

“Ziva,” I mutter, “don’t react, but I think we’re being followed.”

Her stride doesn’t falter, but I see her shoulders tense. “How many?” she asks, keeping her voice low.

“Can’t tell. One, maybe two.” I resist the urge to look back, instead scanning our surroundings and noticing that the streets are emptying. “We need to lose them before we reach Grandma’s.”

Ziva’s hand finds mine, squeezing tight. “Next turn, we run. Ready?”

I nod, fear and adrenaline rushing through me. We round the corner and break into a sprint. Ziva pulls me into a narrow alley, the rough brick scraping my back as we huddle behind a stack of crates. Our breaths are loud in the suffocating silence, the distant sounds of the street fading away.

“Stay quiet,” she hisses, peeking out of the alley towards the street. I follow her gaze and spot two figures walking past, their heads down as they scan the area.

My stomach twists into knots as I spot the black uniforms of Authority Enforcers, their presence a reminder of the ever-looming threat that hangs over us. Panic surges through me— they’re searching for someone—and that someone could easily be us.

Once they pass by, Ziva gives me a small nod and we cautiously make our way out of the alleyway heading back the way we came.

We’re halfway down the alley when a figure steps out from the shadows, blocking our path.

I skid to a stop, Ziva crashing into my back.

My stomach drops as I recognize the shock of red hair.

“Well, well.” Her figure steps out of the shadows. Her smile flashes perfectly white teeth, but it’s devoid of warmth—a predator’s grin that sends a shiver down my spine. “Looks like I’m not the only one with a rebellious streak.”

“Arden,” I breathe, memories of that day in the alley much like this one flooding back. Ziva’s grip on my hand tightens in warning.

“The one and only,” Arden grins, but there’s an edge to it. She takes a step forward, and I instinctively move in front of Ziva. “Relax, lovebirds. If I wanted to turn you in, I’d have done it already.”

“Then what do you want?” Ziva demands, her voice steady despite our precarious situation.

Arden’s expression shifts, losing its playful edge. “The same thing you do. Freedom. A chance to feel again.” She taps her NeuroMod, the faint glow reflecting in her eyes. “I know you’ve been disabling them. I want in.”

My heart stops. This could be a trap, or it could be the break we’ve been waiting for. I exchange a quick glance with Ziva, seeing my own uncertainty mirrored in her eyes.

“How do we know we can trust you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

Arden’s lips quirk up in a sardonic smile. “You don’t. But I’m guessing you need all the help you can get.”

She holds out her hand, palm up. Her hand opens slowly, revealing a small device that glints in the dim light, intricate and small. My breath catches—it could be the key to our freedom—or a trap that leads us deeper into The Authority’s grip.

“I’ve got something that might interest you.”