Chapter 21: Digital Trails (Silas POV)

Nico’s been gone since he stormed out, leaving me with Ray, that old promoter, who wouldn’t stop talking about past gigs and debts I don’t owe. I sent him packing, but the loft’s empty, quiet, and my chest’s tight with worry. Our fight’s still raw—“I’m scared,” he’d said, and I pushed too hard. The door creaks open, slow, and Nico stumbles in, pale, hands shaking, blood on his jeans. “What happened?” I say, loud, jumping up, rushing to him. He drops his jacket, voice low. “Found the contact. Dead. Ambushed.”

My stomach twists, and I grab his arms, steadying him. “You okay?” I ask, soft, looking him over. He nods, slow, but his eyes are wide, spooked. “Barely got out,” he says, quiet, sitting hard on the mattress. “It’s bad, Silas. Real bad.” I sit beside him, close, feeling his fear hit me too. “We can’t keep guessing,” I say, firm. “We need help. Real help.” He looks at me, tired. “Who?” he asks, voice rough.

“Kieran,” I say, fast, grabbing my phone. “Hacker I know. Quiet guy, good with tech.” Nico frowns, slow. “Can we trust him?” he asks. I nod, firm. “Yeah,” I say. “He’s weird, but solid. Helped me once with a busted rig.” I text him quick—address, “urgent,” the works—and he replies fast: “Come now.” Nico grabs the flash drive, hands it to me. “This better work,” he says, low, standing up. I take it, feel its weight, and we’re out, heading to Kieran’s.

His place is a basement off 10th, dark stairs, door scratched up. I knock, sharp, and it opens slow—Kieran’s there, skinny, glasses, hair a mess. “Silas,” he says, flat, stepping back. “In.” We slip inside, air thick with heat and buzzing machines, screens glowing everywhere. “What’s up?” he asks, sitting at a desk piled with gear. I hold up the drive, toss it to him. “Files,” I say. “Encrypted. Tied to blackmail, maybe more.” Nico steps up, voice tight. “And a video,” he says. “Ruined me. Need to know who.”

Kieran plugs it in, fingers flying on keys, screens lighting up fast. “Heavy stuff,” he says, quiet, scrolling code I don’t get. Nico’s beside me, tense, watching close. “What’s it say?” he asks, loud. Kieran leans back, slow. “Encrypted tight,” he says. “But I’ll crack it.” His setup hums, lights blinking, and I feel hope, small but real. “Start with the video,” I say, firm. “It’s messed with, got worse.”

He pulls it up, the leaked clip—us in the loft, but uglier now, voices fake, twisted. My stomach turns, and Nico looks away, jaw tight. “Yeah,” Kieran says, slow, zooming in. “Manipulated. Audio’s layered, not real.” I nod, fast. “Who did it?” I ask, leaning in. He runs something, lines of junk flashing, then stops, points. “See this?” he says. “Code signature. Someone sloppy left a mark.” Nico’s eyes widen. “A name?” he asks, voice shaking.

Kieran digs more, screens shifting, and I feel the air get heavy. “Not a name yet,” he says, quiet. “But a trail. Local, tight circle.” My heart jumps, and I look at Nico—he’s pale, breathing fast. “My circle?” he says, low, stepping back. Kieran nods, slow. “Yeah,” he says. “IP traces to Asheville, someone you’d know.” I grab the desk, steadying myself. “Crew?” I ask, loud. “Partner?” Nico shakes his head, fast. “No way,” he says, but his voice cracks, unsure.

Kieran keeps going, pulling files from the drive, cracking locks. “Here,” he says, opening one—emails, dates, stuff we’ve seen, but clearer now. “Video’s tied to this,” he says, pointing. “Same source pushed it.” Nico leans in, voice rough. “Who’d want me down?” he asks, quiet, like he’s scared to know. Kieran scrolls, slow, then stops. “Old contact,” he says. “Someone you trusted, burned maybe.” My gut twists—Nico’s past, biting back again.

I see his face change, fear sinking deep. “Ray?” he says, low, thinking of that promoter. “Zeke?” Kieran shrugs, calm. “Could be,” he says. “Trail’s warm, not hot yet.” Nico paces, fast, hands in his hair. “Someone I knew,” he says, loud, turning to me. “Wanted me wrecked.” I grab his arm, soft. “We’ll find them,” I say, firm. “Together.” He nods, slow, but he’s shaken, trust cracking under him.

Kieran’s fingers fly again, screens buzzing, and I feel it—a breakthrough, close. “Got more,” he says, loud, pulling up a list—names, payments, “Ash deal” stuff. “Big network,” he says. “Your guy’s in it.” Nico stops, stares. “My guy?” he asks, voice high. Kieran nods, slow. “Yeah,” he says. “Inner circle, no doubt.” I feel sick—someone Nico danced with, worked with, trusted, turned on him hard.

Nico’s quiet, breathing loud, and I see it hit—betrayal, raw and deep. “I let them in,” he says, soft, sitting hard on a chair. “Gave them me.” I kneel beside him, voice low. “Not your fault,” I say, steady. “They chose this.” He looks at me, eyes wet. “I’m done,” he says, quiet. “They took everything.” I shake my head, fast. “Not us,” I say, firm, holding his hand tight.

Kieran’s still working, focused, when he freezes. “Wait,” he says, loud, leaning in. “Hidden file, buried deep.” My heart jumps, and I stand, fast. “Open it,” I say, sharp. He clicks, slow, code spinning, then the screen flickers—red warnings, noise blaring. “What’s that?” Nico asks, loud, jumping up. Kieran’s hands stop, eyes wide. “Attack,” he says, fast. “Remote, hitting now.” The screens glitch, files melting, corrupting fast.

“No!” I yell, grabbing the desk, watching it die. Kieran pulls cords, frantic. “Too late,” he says, loud, turning to us. “Someone doesn’t want you knowing the truth.” My chest goes cold, and Nico’s beside me, shaking again. The database crashes, black, gone, and we’re stuck, that hidden file lost, danger closer than ever.