Page 24

Ziva

The alleyway feels like a trap. Damp, cold bricks press against me, the stench of mildew hanging heavy in the air. I hear the distant hum of the city, muffled but relentless, as Arden’s silhouette emerges from the shadows.

I instinctively step closer to Myall, our shoulders brushing. His presence steadies me, but the tight coil of wariness in my gut reminds me how fragile trust can be.

Arden smirks as she extends her hand, revealing a small, intricate device nestled in her palm. “I’ve got something that might interest you.”

My breath catches. A data chip. Sleek, inconspicuous—a treasure trove of information, packed into one tiny, highly illegal device.

“Recognize this, Ziva?” Arden’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. “I thought you might.”

I give a brief nod, unable to tear my gaze from the chip. The thrill of possibility and the fear of betrayal claw at my insides.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, barely containing my surprise.

Arden’s hair catches the dim light as she tosses her head. “Let’s just say I have my ways. But here’s the deal—it’s yours, if you let me join your little rebellion.”

Myall tenses beside me. I risk a glance at him, seeing my own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes.

Can we trust her?

“How do you even know about our… activities?” Myall’s voice is low, controlled, but I hear the edge beneath.

Arden’s laugh is sharp. “Please. You two aren’t exactly subtle. But don’t worry, I’m on your side.”

I bite my lip, thoughts racing between what information could be on the chip and the fear of trusting someone we barely know. Myall’s presence is a quiet anchor, his warmth comforting.

“What’s on it?” I ask, stalling for time even though I already suspect the answer. I feel Myall’s tension, a taut wire ready to snap.

Arden’s eyes dance with excitement. “Oh, just a little thing called NeuroMod blueprints. Thought that might interest you.”

So, it was her.

My heart skips a beat. With this, we could disable the entire emotion-suppression network. It’s almost too good to be true.

Turning to Myall, I search his face. His jaw is set, though a flicker of hope lingers in his eyes. We’ve dreamed of this, of finding an easier way to disable the NeuroMods. Now, the key to it all is within reach.

“What do you think?” I murmur, leaning close.

Myall’s breath is warm on my cheek as he whispers back, “I don’t know, but… we might not get another chance like this.”

I nod, feeling the weight of the decision. Turning back to Arden, I square my shoulders. “Alright,” I say, though I’m still not entirely trusting. “But if this is a trap…”

Arden’s grin is triumphant as she steps forward. “Trust me,” she says, “This is just the beginning.”

Why does it feel like we’ve just crossed a point of no return?

Myall’s deep green eyes meet mine, a silent understanding passing between us. His jaw tightens, the gears turning in his head. Suddenly, he turns to Arden, keeping his voice low.

“My grandmother’s house. It’s not far from here. We can talk more freely there, without risking exposure.”

I inhale sharply, surprised by Myall’s boldness. His grandmother’s house—our sanctuary—now a place for a stranger. I trust Myall, but I’m not quite ready to trust Arden.

Her eyebrows shoot up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, well. Meeting the family already? I’m flattered.”

A heat spreads through my chest at her boldness.

Myall ignores her quip, his tone serious. “It’s two blocks east, then one north. The house with the faded blue paint. Wait five minutes after we leave, then follow. We can’t be seen together.”

I watch Arden carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. She only nods.

“Smart. I’ll be there. Don’t worry, I’m good at staying under the radar.”

As we prepare to part ways, I can’t help but wonder if we’re making a terrible mistake. But the chip in Arden’s pocket is a constant reminder of what’s at stake.

“Ready?” he asks softly, his hand brushing mine.

After a quick glance around, we step out of the alley, leaving Arden behind.

We step onto the cracked pavement, the chill of the evening air biting at my skin, and I whisper to Myall, “Are you sure about this?” My voice trembles with uncertainty, barely rising above the rustle of dead leaves swirling around us.

He squeezes my hand, his touch grounding me.

“No,” he admits. “But sometimes you have to take a leap of faith.”

Or a leap right off a cliff.

We approach Grandma Elara’s house—its faded blue paint stands out against the gray twilight—a familiar sight that usually brings comfort.

Today, it feels like a harbinger of change.

Myall’s hand is warm in mine, our fingers intertwined.

I feel a surge of anxiety mixed with relief—this house has always been a refuge—but tonight, it feels like a fragile bubble, ready to burst.

As we reach the porch, the door swings open to reveal Grandma Elara, her weathered face lighting up into a warm smile, eyes twinkling at the corners.

“There you are, my dears. I got nervous when you didn’t show up on time,” she exclaims, pulling us both into a tight embrace. I breathe in her scent—lavender and cinnamon—and for a moment, the world feels right again.

“Come in, come in,” she ushers us inside. “I’ve been dying to hear about your week. Any progress with the rebellion?”

Elara’s excitement has already been replaced by the numbness of her NeuroMod as she takes a seat in her favorite armchair. I exchange a quick glance with Myall as we settle onto the sofa. His eyes are clouded with worry, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am—how do we explain Arden?

“Actually, Grandma,” Myall begins, cutting right to the chase, “something happened today. We were cornered in an alley by a woman named Arden. She—”

I interrupt, unable to contain my mounting anxiety. “She knows about the rebellion. Somehow, she found out, and now she wants to join us.”

Grandma Elara’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Well, that’s certainly unexpected. Do you trust her?”

“We don’t know,” I admit, fidgeting with a loose thread. “That’s why we brought her here. We thought maybe you could help us figure out if—”

My stomach drops like a stone as the sharp knock echoes through the house—cutting me off mid-sentence—Arden has arrived earlier than expected. Myall and I lock eyes, a silent conversation passing between us. Should we trust her? Can we afford not to?

Before we can decide, another knock sounds, more insistent this time. The choice has been made for us.

I watch as Myall rises from the sofa, his shoulders tense. He moves cautiously to the back door, his hand hesitating on the knob. I hold my breath as he cracks it open, peering out.

“It’s her,” he confirms softly, then opens the door wider. Elara and I both rise from our seats and wait in the doorway to the kitchen.

Arden slips inside, her vibrant red hair clashing with the muted, cozy hues of Grandma Elara’s kitchen. Her eyes dart around, drinking in every detail as she scans the room. Her alertness is hard to ignore, even as suspicion gnaws at my gut.

“Arden,” Myall says, his voice hesitant, “this is my grandmother, Elara. Grandma, this is Arden.”

Grandma Elara steps forward, her wrinkled face a mix of curiosity and caution. “Welcome to my home, dear.”

Arden’s mischievous smile flashes. “Thank you for having me. I’ve heard so much about you—well, overheard, really.”

The casual admission of her eavesdropping sends a chill down my spine. How much does she really know?

We make our way back to the living room, an awkward silence settling over us. I can’t take it anymore. The question that’s been burning inside me since the alley bursts out.

“How did you find out about our rebellion?” I demand once we’ve all taken our seats, my voice sharper than intended. “Who told you?”

Arden’s eyes lock onto mine, her gaze unflinching. “No one told me, Ziva. I figured it out on my own. You two aren’t as subtle as you think.”

My heart stutters. If she could figure it out, who else might have? Are we already compromised?

I start to press further, but Myall’s hand on my arm holds me back. His touch is gentle, grounding. “Let’s hear her out,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

I respond with a silent nod, trying to quell the storm of emotions inside me. Fear, curiosity, and a flicker of hope war within my chest as I wait for Arden to explain herself.

Arden leans forward. “It all started the day Myall spotted me attempting to disable my NeuroMod in that alley,” she begins, her words rapid and tinged with excitement.

“I’ll be honest, that wasn’t a smart move on my part.

I’d had a shitty day at work. Anyway…I noticed him watching, and well, curiosity got the better of me.

So, I followed him, which led me to you, Ziva. ”

My stomach churns. How did we miss this?

“Once I put two and two together,” Arden continues, pulling out the small device she’d shown us earlier, “I knew I needed something to prove my worth. So, I hacked into the Compliance Monitoring Division.”

Myall’s sharp intake of breath mirrors my own shock. “You what?” he asks, his usually calm voice strained.

A sly grin tugs at her lips. “It wasn’t easy, but I got my hands on the NeuroMod blueprints. Took a while to crack them cause they were double encrypted,” she waves the tiny chip between her fingers. “My peace offering. My ticket to join your little rebellion.”

“I can’t believe you managed to hack into the Compliance Monitoring Division,” I murmur in disbelief, “How did you learn to code so well?”

Arden squirms in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. It’s almost satisfying.

“Well,” she starts, “I taught myself how to code when I was young. I always knew it was something I wanted to do professionally once I realized my talent—plus there wasn’t much else to do in the orphanage.”

I freeze, the weight of her words sinking in.

She grew up in an orphanage just like me.