A Code of Silence

Fractions & Unity

She turned the monitor to face us. On the screen was a simple list. A timeline of every post that had been made, each one with a simple user ID and a timestamp. But in the corner, there was a small column she hadn't mentioned. A login log for the admin panel. Every time The Watcher had logged in to make a new post, his own IP address was recorded there. It was a single, tiny line of code that he had completely missed. It was a digital ghost, a footprint he didn't even know he'd left.

Christopher's eyes widened. "That's not just a location," he said, his voice a low growl of disbelief. "That's a building. A whole network."

Emma nodded. "A school network. The IP address is a local one. It's a login from within the school itself."

"What are you all celebrating?" I asked, my voice flat. "We knew it was Ethan. Of course he's in the school. He's been living in our hallways, watching our lives fall apart, for weeks."

Augustus nodded, his face grim. "She's right. The IP address is confirmation, but it's not enough. It doesn't tell us where he is."

Mr. Brooks watched us, his expression a mix of concern and fascination. "Ethan is a master of control," he said. "He won't make a mistake unless he is forced to."

A new thought hit me. If he was so good at hiding his digital footprint, maybe we needed to look at a different kind of footprint. A more personal one.

"What about his phone?" I asked, looking at Christopher. "Can you track his phone?"

Christopher shook his head, a grim expression on his face. "He's too smart for that. He's probably using a burner, and he'd never leave location services on. It would be a dead end."

"Not necessarily," Emma chimed in, a flicker of an idea in her eyes. "A direct track is impossible. But a Trojan, maybe. We could send him a file or a link, something he's curious about. If he opens it, it could trigger a geo-tag. We could get a pinpoint location."

Augustus looked at Christopher, his face pale. "You mean, we have to bait him?"

"Not talk," Christopher corrected, his eyes lighting up with a dangerous glint. "We have to bait him. He thinks he won, that he's a ghost. We need to send him something so irresistible, so tempting, he can't help but click on it."

It hit me then. The one thing that meant more to Ethan than anything else was Christopher's failure. His fake success. The final post wasn't just a revelation; it was a victory lap. The only thing more satisfying for him than winning would be to see his rival begging for mercy.

"You have to post an apology," I said, looking at Christopher. "Not to me. To him."

Christopher looked at me as if I were insane. "An apology? He just ruined my life."

"Exactly," I said, a cold resolve settling over me. "It's the one thing he wants more than anything. He wants to see you broken. You have to write a public post on The Daily Buzz. Tell him you were wrong. That he won. Tell him you want to meet him, to surrender."

Emma's eyes widened. "And we attach the file to the post, so when he clicks it, we get his location."

We were all looking at Christopher now. He was the bait. He was the one who had to make the ultimate sacrifice of his pride. He took a deep breath, and I knew what he was going to say. He looked at Emma, who gave him a small, encouraging nod. He had no choice. It was the only way.

I stared at the screen, my hands shaking. Christopher had posted the fake apology, a carefully crafted message that would feed Ethan's ego. He'd signed it with a defeated "I give up." We all watched the screen, our faces illuminated by the pale glow of the monitor. The silence in the room was deafening. Every second felt like an hour. We were waiting for the geo-tag to ping, for the location to appear. We were waiting to see if our plan had worked.

And then, it happened.

A small map window popped up on the screen, a red dot blinking on it. We all leaned in, our hearts pounding. It wasn't the school. The dot was on a street we all knew. It was on Christopher's street. Our street.

"That's a glitch," Emma said, her voice a shaky whisper. "It has to be."

"It's not," Augustus said, his voice flat. He was staring at something else on the screen, a new window that had just opened up. "He's not at the school. He's somewhere on this block."

Christopher's eyes widened. "That's not a geo-tag," he said, his voice a low growl of disbelief. He was staring at the new window, his face pale. "That's a live feed."

The new window was a video, a clear, high-definition stream from a security camera. We were all on the screen. We could see the front of the house, the porch light on, the four of us huddled around the glowing monitor. And then, a figure stepped into view, a person standing under a streetlight on the corner. He wasn't moving. He was just looking at the house. He was looking at us.

And as we watched, a chilling, impossible smile spread across his face. He lifted his hand to his ear, as if he were holding a phone, and he waved.

To be continued...