Chapter 55

Chapter 55 (Nell’s POV)

“Hold on,” Rick said as he yanked the steering wheel to the right.

The SUV swerved violently off the main road, tires screeching as we darted into a narrow side street. I grabbed the handle above the window with both hands, heart pounding as Rick sped through the alley without slowing down.

Behind us, the black SUV followed.

Langston didn’t say a word. He kept one eye on the mirror, the other on the road ahead. His hand rested on the gun in his lap, ready.

“They’re not slowing down,” he muttered.

I turned in my seat to look back. The other vehicle was closing in. Not too fast, but steady—like they knew we couldn’t go far.

Rick veered sharply again, cutting through another alley and bursting onto a busier road. Horns blared as cars swerved out of our path.

“Where are we going?” I shouted.

“There’s a parking structure two blocks from here,” Rick said. “Low ceilings. No cameras. We might lose them.”

Langston reached down and opened a hidden compartment between the front seats. Inside was a small black case. He handed it back to me.

“Drink this,” he said firmly.

It was the suppressant.

I stared at the vial. “But I feel fine.”

“For now,” Langston said. “Stress can trigger memory recall. If they’re tracking you through the implant, we need to slow it down.”

I didn’t want to take it. I didn’t want another chemical in my system. But the urgency in his eyes told me this wasn’t a choice.

I twisted the cap and swallowed.

It tasted like metal and salt. My stomach turned immediately.

Rick took another turn, this time into a narrow underground ramp. The tires thudded down concrete steps, and darkness wrapped around us.

The parking garage was mostly empty. Rows of concrete pillars. Dim flickering lights overhead. Rick turned off the headlights and slowed the car behind one of the support beams.

We waited in silence.

One minute.

Two.

No sign of the SUV.

“Think we lost them?” I whispered.

Rick shook his head. “Maybe. But we won’t know until we move again.”

Langston looked at me. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just drank battery acid,” I muttered.

He gave a short nod. “Then it’s working.”

\---

After five more minutes of silence, Rick pulled the car back onto the street using a different exit.

We drove slower now. Cautiously.

No sign of the black SUV.

No one behind us.

I finally allowed myself to breathe again.

We entered a quieter part of the city—an industrial area on the northern edge. The buildings here were old and half-abandoned. Chain-link fences. Broken signs. Tall brick walls with boarded-up windows.

“This is the place,” Langston said.

Rick parked near a loading dock. The building looked like it used to be a warehouse. The outside was cracked and worn. Rusty metal doors. Graffiti on the lower walls.

“It’s empty,” I said.

“Looks that way,” Rick agreed.

Langston stepped out first, scanning the area with sharp eyes. He motioned for us to follow.

We entered through a side door that creaked on its hinges. The inside was dark. Dusty. The air smelled old—like cardboard, metal, and forgotten things.

Langston led the way through the large open space. Most of it was empty. Old crates stacked against walls. A broken table. Some shattered glass on the floor.

But as we moved deeper, I noticed signs.

Fresh footprints in the dust.

A small wrapper from a protein bar.

A water bottle—half full.

“He’s been here,” I whispered.

Rick moved ahead to a small room near the back—maybe once an office. The door was cracked open. A soft creak echoed as he pushed it wider.

Inside was a simple cot. A pile of clothes. A bag. And on the floor… a book.

I stepped forward slowly.

I knew that book.

Worn red cover. Gold letters almost faded.

Alex used to read it on the train when we were… whatever we were.

I reached down and picked it up.

My hands shook.

“He was here,” I said again. “Not long ago.”

Langston crouched near the cot, checking the bag. “Food’s still fresh. He can’t be far.”

Rick looked out the window. “Then where is he?”

I turned toward the hallway.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft creak.

Not from us.

From behind the wall.

Rick raised a hand. “Stay here.”

“No,” I said. “If it’s him…”

Langston drew his gun but kept it low. “We move together. Quiet.”

We stepped out of the room. The hallway stretched both ways. One end led to the exit. The other to another section of the building—darker, even more silent.

We walked slowly. Every step echoed.

Then we reached the far room.

The door was already open.

The lights were off.

I stepped inside first.

“Alex?” I said softly. “Are you—?”

He stepped out from the shadows.

My heart stopped.

His face.

His eyes.

It was him.

But different.

Older.

Harder.

He looked at me, and for a second, I saw something flicker behind his eyes.

Recognition?

Pain?

Something.

Then it was gone.

He stared at me flatly.

And said—

“Who are you?”