Page 45 of When You're Gone

Chronos laughed, the soundchillingly devoid of humor. "Using technology, Finn," he mocked."To destroy technology."

Something in the man’s eyesfrightened Finn. It was that somewhere buried deep in the madness, Chronosbelieved in his words. He believed the world was about to come crashing down.

"Whatever you'replanning," Finn said through gritted teeth, "it's over."

Chronos merely smiled wider, hisgaze locked onto Finn's. "But detective, it's out of my hands. When I sawyou coming, I passed all I have along to a mutual friend of ours."

Amelia's footsteps echoed as shecaught up with Finn, who stood panting, his hand clutching his woundedshoulder, eyes locked on the young man beneath him. Chronos lay pinned,defiance still blazing in his eyes despite his captured state.

"Talk," Amelia demanded,her voice a blade of ice cutting through the tension. "The differenceengine, the machine parts—what was it all for?"

Chronos' lips curled into a smirkthat didn't quite reach his eyes. "You think this is all about old piecesof technology? Inspector Winters. Merely breadcrumbs to lead you astray."His gaze flicked to Finn. "You see, I couldn't allow Emily Stanton andLucas Henshaw to get too close to The Tempus Machine. They were starting tounderstand what it actually was."

"Max Vilne," Finninterjected sharply, "was he the one behind the other murders? What washis role in all this?"

"Ah, Vilne," Chronossighed, almost nostalgically. "He had something I needed—a piece of codefrom the black market. A vital component to complete The Tempus Machine."He shifted slightly under Finn's weight. "I did what I had to for thatcode. All he wanted was for me to lead you a merry dance"

“And innocent people died forthat!?” Finn’s voice growled.

Amelia exchanged a glance withFinn, both understanding the gravity of the revelation. It wasn't just aboutancient technology; this was bigger, darker.

“Chronos, is the virus real?”Amelia asked.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Chronossaid.

“Was it Rajiv Choudhary who helpedcreate it?” Finn asked.

“In part,” answered Chronos.

"We can’t risk any of thisbeing real. Vilne has the completed code now," Finn said, urgency lacinghis tone as he pushed off Chronos to stand, wincing at the movement. "Weneed to find him before he acts on whatever plan you've set in motion. Where ishe!?"

"Find him?" Chronoschuckled, shaking his head. "I've been nothing but a servant to his whims,detective. Where he is now, what he plans to do next—I'm as much in the dark asyou are. I’ve played my part, and if he keeps his side of the bargain, themodern world will be brought to its knees."

Finn clenched his jaw, frustrationboiling beneath his skin. Time was slipping away, and with Vilne out there, ashadow with the power to ignite chaos, they were racing against an unseenclock.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The fluorescent buzz of theinterview room light was a stark contrast to the darkness that had envelopedLondon streets just hours before. Finn's head throbbed from the blow he'dtaken, a nagging reminder of the chase and the face that may or may not havebeen Max Vilne's, lurking in the periphery of the chaos.

Chronos sat across from them, handsfolded on the cold steel table, his eyes steady and unblinking as they metFinn’s gaze. The man's calm was unsettling, as if being in the custody of lawenforcement was no more inconvenient than a delayed train.

"Mr. Chronos," beganAmelia, her voice even, betraying none of the fatigue that had settled deep inher bones, "we can arrange for a solicitor if you—"

"I am no liar," Chronosinterjected, his voice bearing a weight that seemed too heavy for the sterileroom. "I've no need for legal shields."

Finn leaned forward, the movementdeliberate, piercing the bubble of stillness Chronos carried with him."Everyone's got a real name," Finn pressed, his tone carrying thesubtle roughness of someone who had seen too many dark corners of human nature."What's yours?"

"Names are chains of thepast," Chronos replied, his voice laced with a conviction that bordered onfanaticism. "My essence, my true identity, is Chronos. I shed my givenname long ago, like dead skin."

Amelia cast a glance at Finn, asilent exchange of skepticism. They knew identities could be obscured, butnever truly discarded, not while threads of one's history clung to the fabricof reality.

Their suspect was an enigma,cloaked in the guise of an ancient deity, yet flesh and blood sat before them.Finn's mind raced through the details of the case, piecing together the stringsthat connected Chronos to the murders, to Victorian Britain, to the insidiousthreat of the Tempus Machine virus.

"Chronos," Finn stated,allowing the name to hang in the air, "time's up." His eyes held theother man's unwavering gaze, searching for a crack in the facade for the humanbeneath the myth.

Amelia slid a file across the tabletowards Chronos with a precision that matched her analytical mind. The paper'sedge came to a halt just within reach of their suspect, its contents asrevealing as the look of anticipation on her face.

"That's funny," shebegan, her words slicing through the tension, "because given yourfingerprints, we were able to find you." Her finger tapped the file, ametronome counting down the seconds to his response.

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