Page 133 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

“I’ve got something!” The words came out as a screech. “Something massive!”

Silence.

“I found Poodle—I mean, I found footage of Poodle being taken. It’s embedded in TFL’s CCTV system but encrypted, really sophisticated stuff. Someone wanted me to find it specifically. They left coordinates—Switzerland, middle of nowhere—and a timestamp showing when they’re going to move him again.”

More silence. Just engine noise and the distant sound of London.

“There’s video proof, Noctule. I watched them drag him unconscious into a van. Wednesday night, half a mile from Oakwood station. The encryption was military-grade but they embedded a breadcrumb trail that led straight to—”

“Magpie.”

“—GPS coordinates that pinpoint some facility in the Swiss mountains and the transfer time is in less than twenty-four hours so we need to—”

“Magpie, slow down.”

“We don’t have time! They’re moving him tomorrow morning at 02:15 Swiss time. That’s… that’s like twenty-six hours and forty-seven minutes from now. We need to get there before they transfer him somewhere else and we lose him forever. We need to take your private jet to Zurich and—”

“It’s not my private jet. I just have access to it when circumstances require—”

“I don’t care whose jet it is!” I screamed. “Aren’t you listening?! They’ve got him locked up in fucking Switzerland and they’re going to move him again and if we miss this window we might never find him!”

Silence filled the line, punctuated only by the sound of my ragged breathing and whatever London street Seb was walking down.

“We don’t know the source of this information,” he said finally, his voice measured and careful. “Someone with serious technical capabilities deliberately planted evidence for you to find. That raises questions about—”

“Questions?” I cut him off. “What questions? He’s been missing for three days and someone just handed us his exact location on a silver platter and you’re worried about their motivations? Who cares?”

“Quite frankly, I do! It’s my job to keep you all safe.”

“Well Poodle isn’t very safe right now!” I shouted into my phone, my voice cracking with the strain.

A pause. Then Seb’s measured tone again, infuriatingly calm. “You arrived at the hotel at six this morning. You’re currently running purely on caffeine and adrenaline. Right now, you need to sleep. Plus, I’m almost two hours away from the hotel right now. We’ll meet early tomorrow morning to carefully dissect this evidence together. Use all our brains to decide the best course of action here.”

The fight drained out of me like air from a punctured balloon. My shoulders sagged as hot tears prickled behind my eyes. It was no good. I knew Seb well enough to know that.

“Okay,” I whispered.

His voice softened. “Go sleep in one of the rooms upstairs. It’s late.”

“Maybe.” The word came out as a mumble.

“Well done, Magpie,” he said. “And I promise we’ll get to the bottom of this tomorrow. We all want to find Kit, and as soon as possible. We’re on the same team here.”

“Okay.”

I ended the call and set the phone down with trembling hands. The weight of the empty hotel suddenly pressed down around me. Just me and the hum of electronics and the weight of knowing where Kit was but being powerless to do anything about it.

My throat tightened, followed by a familiar squeeze of my chest that meant my lungs had forgotten how to work properly. I gripped the edge of my desk, forcing air in through my nose, out through my mouth. In. Out. In. Out.

The panic attack crested and broke like a wave.

My gaze fell on the small terracotta pot sitting beside my keyboard. The Philodendron Pink Princess looked impossibly delicate under my harsh fluorescent lights, its heart-shaped leaves gleaming with those distinctive pink streaks. When I’d found it in that garden centre, I’d known it was perfect for Kit. Bright and unexpected and beautiful.

The sight of it steadied me somehow. Kit was alive. That’s all that mattered right now. Kit was alive, and tomorrow morning we’d review the evidence all together and take action.

But… tomorrow morning.

Wasn’t that leaving it too late?