Page 53

Ziva

My footsteps echo in the dimly lit room, the soft light casting long shadows on the walls.

I pace restlessly, the stale air mingling with the lingering scent of my bergamot soap.

My mind is a tempest, swirling with doubts and fears—the unshakable sense that we’ve crossed a line we can never uncross.

I collapse onto the bed, its soft mattress shifting beneath me. Almost instantly, my knee starts bouncing—quick, jittery—as though trying to escape the weight of my thoughts. The information we leaked overnight about The Authority’s plans for the new NeuroMods weighs heavily on me.

The data is out there now, circulating through the city like wildfire.

Every dataport and propaganda screen now carries our message.

I try not to imagine the chaos it could spark, the risk to our loved ones—but the gnawing dread in my chest won’t let up.

Arden ensured it could not be traced back to us.

But what if we’ve miscalculated? What if the citizens don’t revolt?

Myall and I came to a mutual decision not to show up at work today.

We know we have to act fast and move on to the next phase before The Authority can regroup.

Since the initial resistance, we’ve never needed The Authority’s presence in the city.

The NeuroMods have kept order, enabling The Authority to govern us from a distance. But now that’s all changing.

I glance at the manual clock on the wall, its soft ticking a counterpoint to my racing heartbeat.

Myall should be here any moment. My stomach twists with nervous anticipation—this is the first time he’ll be in my living unit.

I push myself off the bed, about to pace again when a soft knock interrupts, followed by two sharp raps.

Moving to unlock the front door, it slides open with a soft hiss, and Myall’s flushed face greets me.

“Morning, beautiful,” he says, his voice low and tinged with warmth as he steps into the room. Before I can respond, he steps forward and pulls me into his arms, the stubble on his jaw brushing against my cheek.

I relax into his embrace, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort.

His familiar scent of lemon soap floods my senses, and I close my eyes for a moment, allowing the sound of my heartbeat to slow, to sync with his.

For just a moment, I allow myself to feel safe, to forget the enormity of what we’ve set in motion.

“Did you see anyone on your way here?” I murmur against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat audible through his thin sweater.

Myall pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting mine. “Not many, the streets were eerily quiet. I think we calculated correctly that people would refuse to go about their daily lives once we leaked the information.”

We had remained in the factory well into the night, gathering and organizing crucial information—with Dr. Vance guiding us on what would have the greatest impact on the public. Arden and Tariq ensured the information spread without a trace back to us.

I nod, a mixture of relief and apprehension coursing through me. “Good. That’s… good.”

“Are you okay?” Myall asks, his brow furrowing with concern as he releases me.

Hesitating, my fingers grip the hem of my worn black shirt, the fabric thin under my touch.

“I’m… I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“Part of me is terrified we’ve made a huge mistake.

What if we’re wrong? What if we’ve just doomed everyone?

” I feel the weight of it pressing on my chest, as if I can’t breathe around this impossible decision.

His hands settle on my shoulders, warm and steady, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. He traces small circles near my collarbone, the motion gentle, almost tender. I feel his touch seep through my skin, reaching the anxious parts of me that have been on edge since last night.

“Ziva, look at me,” he says softly, drawing my gaze.

“I know it’s hard. That guilt you’re feeling, that hesitation?” He pauses, making sure I’m really hearing him. “It just proves that you’re more human than The Authority ever were.”

I blink at him, the truth of his words hovering just out of reach.

“They didn’t hesitate,” he goes on. “Not when they stripped us of our emotions. Not when they turned people into empty shells in the name of control.”

His jaw tightens. “They never cared about the long-term impact. About what it would do to us—our memories, our relationships, our ability to even feel joy or grief.”

My throat tightens, but I stay silent, letting him speak.

“But you?” He lifts one hand, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re still questioning. Still worrying about the consequences. That’s because you care. About what comes next. About the people who will have to live with what we’ve done.”

He lets that sit for a moment before finishing, softer now. “That’s how I know we’re doing the right thing. The Authority can’t be allowed to implant those new NeuroMods. They have to be stopped.”

Nodding, I try to draw strength from his conviction. “You’re right. It’s just… the weight of it all, you know?”

“I do,” he says softly, his thumbs continuing their lazy circular motion.

I square my shoulders, sighing faintly. “Okay. So what’s our next move?”

Myall’s eyes flick towards the kitchen. “We take the day to review our plans, make sure we’re ready for whatever comes next.”

We move toward the kitchen table, Myall seeming completely at ease in my space which is comforting, yet unnerving all at once.

Under different circumstances, I might have savored this moment—sharing space with someone who understands me in a way no one else does.

But now, with the weight of rebellion pressing down on us, every touch and every shared silence feels charged with urgency.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” I say, gesturing vaguely around my living unit as we make our way towards my kitchen. “Being here, together, when we should be at work—pretending everything’s normal. I’ve never skipped a shift.”

Myall’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile. “Nothing about this is normal, Ziva. But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? To break the cycle.”

Returning his smile, I feel a flicker of the rebellious spirit that first drew us together. “I suppose you’re right.”

We settle at my small kitchen table, Myall pulls out my chair with an easy, unspoken familiarity. My fingers trace the outline of the Compliance Monitoring Division on one of the blueprints Jorel obtained, thoughts swirling as I consider our options.

“The city’s in disarray,” Myall says, his voice sounding tight as he takes the seat across from me. “The Maglev was nearly empty this morning. Streets are quiet. It’s like everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.”

I meet his gaze across the table. “Good. That means our message got through. People are resisting, even if they don’t fully understand why yet.”

Myall nods, leaning in closer and resting his elbows on the table. “But we can’t let this momentum fade. We need to strike while The Authority is unsteady, before they can call in reinforcements.”

I pull up a holographic display of the NeuroMod blueprints on my dataport. “Our access codes and I.D badges should get us past the initial security checkpoints, assuming that they haven’t been flagged yet. But after that, we’re in uncharted territory.”

We can only hope our access is still valid, despite our absence today. That’s why Marcus made sure to go in today, so at least one of us would still have entry into the facility. He also promised to report back with any information he gathers during his shift today.

“What about these maintenance tunnels?” Myall gestures toward a faint line on the blueprint spread across the table. “If we can get a small team of us through there, we might be able to bypass most of their internal security.”

Biting my lip, I consider. “If we’re caught in there, we’d be trapped.”

“Better than walking through the front gates and getting caught, Ziva,” Myall says, his hand finding mine across the table. “But it might be our only way to reach the core of the network.”

He’s right. If we want to dismantle the entire NeuroMod system, we need to find a way into the building and locate the central hub of the network. Only then can we successfully disable it.

Slowly I nod, my mind already planning the next steps. “We’ll need to coordinate with the others. Make sure everyone knows their role.”

I hope that Arden and Dr. Vance have successfully finished the device to deactivate the NeuroMod system while they’re lying low at Elara’s house.

“Do you think Dr. Vance will go through with this?” I ask, the doubt in my voice unmistakable.

My chest tightens, and a nagging feeling creeps up my spine.

I want to believe in her—and in the cause—but I can’t shake the image of her eyes, so haunted when she spoke of the NeuroMods.

She’s been part of the system for so long…

how much of her is still tethered to it?

Myall’s expression grows serious as he considers my words. “I believe she will. Remember her face when she told us what the new NeuroMods would do. She looked… haunted.”

She did, but a small part of me still holds a kernel of doubt that she can’t be entirely trusted.

My hands tremble as I trace the outline of the Compliance Monitoring Division on the map.

A rush of excitement and fear pulses through me, making my grip unsteady.

Myall notices, reaching out to gently place his hand over mine.

His touch is warm, reassuring, and instantly calms my fraying nerves.

“We can do this, Ziva,” he says softly, his eyes meeting mine with unwavering conviction.

Slowly I inhale, trying to calm my racing heart and steady my shaking hands. “I know. It’s just… there’s so much at stake if this goes wrong.”