Missing An Element

Chapter 1

July 5th, 2027

Embar's Point of view

I step into the quiet foyer of Harry's house, the heavy wooden door closing behind us with a solid, echoing thud.

The summer road trip is officially over.

Five long weeks on the highway—endless miles of sun-bleached asphalt, lukewarm diner coffee, sticky steering wheels, and those brief, precious moments where we actually managed to forget the blood dripping from our family trees. Five weeks of pretending we were just normal teenagers taking a victory lap before real life caught up with us. But the illusion shatters the second that front door locks into place. Now, we are right back where we started, standing in the shadows of an empty hallway while the real world pulls us under.

I stand there for a second, my boots heavy against the rug, thinking back to the fun stops along the way. The neon-lit arcades in Boardwalk, the stupid photos we forced Nick to pose for on the edge of the Grand Canyon, the midnight bonfires on desolate beaches, and the unaddressed elephant in the room: the complete and total radio silence from Tim that none of us had the courage to speak about. We capped it all off watching the fireworks explode over New York City, a dazzling, deafening spectacle meant to sign off on our youth. But deep down, the smoke was already clogging our lungs.

I toss my heavy duffel bag onto the hardwood floor, stretching my aching, road-weary shoulders. My spine pops under the pressure. Beside me, Nick sets down his worn leather bag. His dark eyes immediately scan the entry hall with that sharp, vigilant instinct he has developed over the last month—checking the blind spots behind the staircase, evaluating the line of sight from the front windows, tracking the lock systems. It's funny to watch him act like he's the sole commander in charge, only for Markus and me to actually make all calls when the push comes to shove. But I let him have his posture. We all need a shield to hold up right now.

"Tim should have been back from London a few days ago," Jason says, leaning his tall frame against the archway that leads to the kitchen. His arms are tightly crossed over his chest, his jaw set so tight the muscle beneath his cheek twitches. "His flight landed on Tuesday. Why isn't his car parked in the driveway?"

Markus pulls his phone from his back pocket, his thumb flying across the glass screen with practiced, effortless efficiency. "His personal line is still going straight to voicemail. Same thing for the burner line we set up before he boarded."

"Maybe he got delayed at customs," Harry suggests, coming through the side door carrying the rest of our loose gear—coolers, folded blankets, and a box of half-eaten snacks from the road. He sets them down with a grunt. "Or maybe his dad kept him late at the European firm to sign off on those corporate transfers."

"No," Markus says. His voice drops into that cold, clinical register—the precise, detached tone that signals his strategist brain is firing at absolute maximum capacity. "I checked the international flight manifests an hour after he was set to land. Tim boarded the plane at Heathrow on Tuesday morning. He landed at JFK at 2:15 PM. He cleared border control. He walked out of the terminal."

I turn to look at Markus, my brow furrowing. "How did you get access to JFK's border manifests?"

Markus doesn't miss a beat, keeping his eyes locked on his screen. "I have my ways. I just wanted to make sure he was safe."

A heavy, suffocating silence falls over the wide hallway. The quiet hum of the air conditioner overhead suddenly sounds like a low, warning roar.

Nick turns slowly, his boots scuffing against the floorboards as he looks at Markus, then across the entry arch at Jason. "He landed six days ago... and he didn't check in with a single one of us?"