Page 160 of Seeking Shadows

It’s maddening, the way Mia keeps her at arm's length yet clings to the idea of her. She never tells me much about Katie.

At this point, I’m not even sure her mother exists. If she’s been held captive by the Cartel, then it makes sense there’s no digital footprint or whispered rumor. I’ve chased every lead into dead ends; it’s like hunting a ghost in the dark.

Before I can spiral any further, my phone rings. Mia shifts beside me, her presence suddenly sharper, more purposeful.

“I found her,” Mia says, voice low, almost a whisper, but with an unmistakable certainty.

"Katie?”

“Yes, do you trust me?”she responds, her eyes searching mine.

“I trust you.”

“Then just come with me.”

“Okay,” I agree, already feeling a pull toward her, not knowing where this is going but knowing I want to be there.

I wave goodbye to Charlie, who looks at us with a mix of concern and frustration. I place Figaro back on his bed, and he groans in protest, but Mia hands him his ball, and he quiets down almost immediately.

Mia smiles, satisfied with her little trick, and starts walking. “I want you to meet her.”

“Okay.”

“To get to her, I need your help,” she continues, her eyes gleaming with determination.

“Of course.”

She glances sideways at me, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “You didn’t even ask what you need to do.”

“I told you I would help find her, and I didn’t do a good job of that. So, this is the least I can do. I won’t leave you alone,”I sigh, adjusting my jacket. “And I want to help.”

“Truth is, I didn’t do any of the work—Seth found her,” Mia admits.

“Oh,” I murmur.

She smiles and grabs my hand without warning, pulling me down the hallway like we’re running from a fire. “Let’s raid the lab!”

I stop halfway. “What?”

“I’ll explain on the way!”

Mia never asked for help in the conventional way. But when she did, it was impossible to say no.

The lab was a closed structure, with rough concrete walls and tight security. It was the kind of place no one entered without purpose—or authorization.

Luckily, I had both.

I walked through the entrance without any problems, maintaining the relaxed posture of someone who had worked there long enough to not need to explain themselves. Behind me, an employee was pushing a large cart, the kind used for disposing of chemical waste or contaminated clothing. Inside it, hidden under a pile of dirty lab coats and crumpled plastic, was Mia.

Her idea.

“I could just walk over there, but no, we need the element of surprise, Zane!” she had argued earlier.

The problem? The guy pushing the cart apparently thought I didn’t need to worry about it.

“Leave it to me, Mr. Mitchell,” he said helpfully. “No need to waste your time on this crap.”

I forced a smile, keeping my tone professional. “I prefer to take care of things personally.”

---