Page 101 of White Noise

First, I find a way out.

Then I leave my phone, my watch, and anything else connected behind. I get as far from this condo as I can and see what follows.

If Silas has a limit, I’m going to find it.

And if he doesn’t, then at least I’ll know there is nowhere left to run.

11

SILAS

BASELINE

Saga thinks I left again.

She keeps making that mistake, and every fucking time it gets a little more entertaining.

The static takes my body, the room goes quiet, and she decides silence means distance. She still hasn’t learned that disappearing is not the same thing as leaving. I let her believe it because Saga is at her best when she thinks she’s solving something, all that sharp little anger and stubborn fucking determination convincing her she’s one clever move away from getting free.

She has no idea I’m still here.

Watching.

Listening.

Learning exactly how she plans to run from me.

Tonight, she gives me something even better than fear.

A plan.

I stay buried in the signal while she tears through the condo looking for an exit I haven’t already taken from her. She checks vents, maintenance panels, anything that might connect her little fucking cage to the rest of the building.

At one point she drags a chair into the hallway, climbs onto it, and starts inspecting the vent above her head while muttering threats at a row of painted-over screws like they personally offended her.

I nearly laugh when she realizes she’ll need tools.

My clever little echo, already planning how to crawl through the fucking walls because I locked every proper door.

Possessiveness settles in hard at the thought.

Not jealousy. Not fear that she might actually get away.

Something fucking meaner.

I want to see how far she gets before she understands there is no version of this where she becomes unreachable to me.

She checks the bathroom next, then the utility closet downstairs.

After that, she spends nearly twenty minutes studying building diagrams on her laptop, zooming in on service routes and access spaces before apparently remembering that her grand escape plan includes abandoning every piece of technology she owns.

That part gets a real laugh out of me.

“Oh, Saga.”

She hears the kitchen speaker crackle from across the room and whips around immediately.

Her shoulders tighten, her pulse jumps, and I feel both.