Page 26

Myall

Blue light dances on polished metal surfaces, streaking the walls with neon as the blueprints of the NeuroMod swirl in mid-air, mocking me with their complexity.

I force my gaze back to the circuit diagram, but it’s no use. Arden’s face rises in my thoughts—her eager expression, eyes bright with desperate hope.

The alley, the stench of stale garbage and damp concrete pressing in around us as she backed us into the corner drift through my memories. I didn’t give her the lab’s location yet. Couldn’t risk it without talking to Marcus first.

While staying at Grandma Elara’s, we made an effort to understand Arden better.

I had been serious when I told her that her coding abilities would be extremely valuable to the rebellion.

Our first task for her was to create a security system for the lab, so we could be alerted if anyone tried to approach.

We couldn’t risk being caught off guard by The Authority or Enforcers. Arden promised to get to work on a security system for us right away.

“Myall, you with us?” Ziva’s voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts, sharp and urgent.

Her eyes scan my face, narrowing in on the tension I can’t hide, her brows furrowing slightly in concern. She leans forward, her lips tight with impatience, but her fingers drum lightly on the table as if trying to ground me back in the moment.

“Yeah, sorry. Just…thinking.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes.

“About Arden?” she asks, her tone weary.

I nod, letting out a slow breath. “I keep replaying what she said about her parents. About how they used to be part of some kind of resistance. Her timeline made it sound like it was after the rebellion our parents were involved in.”

Arden’s words echo in my mind like a drumbeat.

Her parents, part of a resistance long since buried by The Authority.

I can’t stop wondering— where are they now?

The thought churns in my gut, a knot of uncertainty tightening with each passing second.

Her voice—so raw, so unguarded—echoes in my head, making it harder to breathe.

Ziva’s expression softens as she listens, her hazel eyes full of both understanding and determination.

“It’s a lot to process, Myall. But we can’t dwell on the past. We have our own rebellion to plan.” Her hand rests on my arm, a subtle anchor in the storm of my thoughts.

“You’re right,” I admit, turning back to the holographic display. “We can’t afford to lose sight of what we’re trying to achieve.”

Ziva’s lips quirk into a half-smile. “That’s why you’re our fearless leader.”

“Ha-ha very funny,” I mutter, thinking back to Marcus’s reaction when we told him about Arden, or rather, when I’d told him about Arden and Ziva just stood there. Marcus’s face had gone hard, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“We can’t trust her,” Marcus had growled, his voice low, but it carried a weight that felt like the press of a hand on my chest. His eyes narrowed, and his fingers flexed at his sides, as though restraining the urge to lash out.

“It could be a trap.” The words hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating, leaving a bitter taste on the back of my tongue.

I’d felt my stomach clench, torn between caution and the urge to help someone clearly yearning for change. But then Ziva had finally stepped in, determined to convince Marcus that Arden could be trusted.

“She has a data chip,” Ziva had explained, “with blueprints for the NeuroMod and Sentinel systems. Think of what we could do with that information, Marcus.”

I watch the hologram rotate, remembering how Marcus’s expression had slowly shifted. The furrow in his brow had deepened, but there was also a keen interest as he pieced together that Arden was responsible for the stolen blueprints.

“How detailed are these blueprints?” he’d asked, leaning forward.

“Enough to potentially reverse-engineer the systems,” Ziva had replied, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice. “Maybe even find a way to disable them for good.”

I’d held my breath, watching the internal struggle play out on Marcus’s face. His caution warring with the potential of such valuable information.

“Okay. It’s a huge risk you’re taking by bringing her in,” he’d finally said, “but… if what you’re saying is true, it could be worth it.”

Now, as I watch the hologram rotate endlessly, a knot of hope and trepidation coils tight in my chest. My palms are slick with sweat, fingers twitching, itching for action I can’t name.

“Do you think we made the right call?” My voice is barely a whisper, a thread of doubt woven through the question. I can’t look at her, afraid she’ll see the fear I’m struggling to hide.

She places a hand on my arm, her touch warm against the chill of the lab, as though her proximity could absorb the worry radiating off me. The pressure of her palm is gentle, but it anchors me to the present, reminding me that she’s here, that we’re not alone in this.

“We need allies, Myall. Sometimes, calculated risks are the only way forward.” Her words are steady, but they don’t quite reach the depths of doubt swirling in my stomach.

I nod. “I just hope we’re not walking into a trap.”

“We’ll be careful,” Ziva assures me. “But think of what we could accomplish with those blueprints. It could be exactly what we need to bring down the whole system.”

I exhale slowly, trying to push the tightness from my chest.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I give her a tight nod, though it’s hard to shake the unease that’s settled deep in my bones. “Let’s take a look at those blueprints.”