CHAPTER 277: UPWARD ECHO

Sector 47 looked exactly how I remembered it—and that wasn’t a compliment.

D-Rank housing didn’t pretend. There were no artificial gardens. No polished railings. No retinal-lock gates or tempered soundproofing. The buildings sat like stacked concrete apologies, flaking from rain and neglect. Cracks spidered out from old patchwork repairs, and the walls were stained with the slow drip of time.

As we pulled up to the complex, I could see the difference even from the car window.

This wasn’t Lily’s neighborhood.

It was worse.

The stairwells were exposed. The elevator blinked "Out of Service." Trash gathered in clumps near the base of the outer fence, drifting from bins that hadn’t been emptied in weeks. Most windows had curtains or old sheets pinned up, and several had metal bars welded to the inside.

"Third floor," Jacob said as the cruiser screeched to a halt. "Unit 308!"

Grant was already moving, his boots hitting pavement with the full weight of purpose. I followed, coat billowing behind me, the heels of my shoes catching faint echoes on the concrete stairs.

Jacob was three steps ahead of us, panting with every landing, breath hitching at the corners.

"Tell me you locked the door," Grant muttered.

"Triple-bolted," Jacob gasped. "No windows open. No spare keys. She should be—"

"Careful with should," I said flatly. "We’re past guessing now."

By the time we reached the third floor, my hand had already moved to the clasp on my inner coat pocket—where my tools were. My skills were active, humming under my skin like tension wound into wire.

Observation.

Deduction.

Instinct.

We reached the door.

Jacob fumbled with the keypad, breath ragged. "3-2-7-0," he muttered as he tapped. A mechanical click followed, then the unmistakable thump of bolts retracting.

He shoved the door open.

"Lea!?"

The apartment was dim and narrow. The lights were off. A single strand of morning light poured in through a slit in the curtain, painting the hallway in dust particles and unease.

"Lea, baby—Daddy’s home!"

No answer.

He moved forward, bumping past a small table stacked with unopened mail and snack wrappers.

"Stay behind me," Grant said, voice low.

Jacob ignored him.

I reached the corner first.

The apartment was cramped. Kitchenette to the right, couch to the left. Small hallway at the back with two rooms—one bathroom, one bedroom. The place smelled of instant noodles and detergent.

Jacob darted toward the bedroom door.

My hand shot out and caught his arm.

"Let me."

He hesitated. Nodded.

The bedroom door was closed. Lock on the inside. A faint glow pulsed beneath the frame.

I knocked once.

Silence.

"Lea?" I said, keeping my voice even. "It’s okay. Your dad’s here."

Still nothing.

Grant edged closer, one hand near his holster.

I tried the knob. It didn’t move.

"Locked," I said. "Not bolted from this side."

Jacob leaned in. "She never locks it. I told her not to—Lea, baby, it’s me!"

"She might be afraid," I muttered. "Could be hiding. Or..."

Grant nodded. "You ready?"

I gave the nod back.

One sharp kick and the latch cracked. The door swung inward.

The room was small. Pink walls faded from sun exposure. Stuffed animals lined the bed’s edge like an old honor guard. A half-eaten bag of chips sat on the floor near a tablet playing muted cartoons.

In the center of the bed, blinking sleepily and very much alive—

Was Lea.

She looked up at us and frowned. "Daddy?"

Jacob choked on a sound halfway between relief and sobbing as he rushed to her. He dropped to his knees by the bed and wrapped her up, murmuring apologies over and over. She didn’t resist. Just hugged back, confused but calm.

"I left the cartoons on like you said," she mumbled. "But they got boring."

Grant exhaled and holstered his weapon.

"I told you," Jacob said tearfully, looking at us now. "She’s safe. She’s safe."

He was right.

And yet—

I didn’t move.

Instinct.

That low tug in my chest hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was louder now.

I stepped out of the room, letting the door click shut gently behind me.

The apartment’s silence had changed. Less anxious. But the pressure remained.

Something had shifted while we were gone.

I swept the space again.

Observation (Lv. 9): The magazines by the table were out of order. Crumbs on the counter hadn’t fallen naturally—they’d been brushed away, not eaten in haste. The coat rack near the door was angled wrong. And above it—

I paused.

The attic hatch was open.

Just slightly. Barely noticeable.

A narrow wooden ladder, half-unfolded, dangled from the ceiling like an afterthought. Not all the way down. Just enough that someone climbing it in a rush might forget to finish the pull.

"Jacob," I called.

He poked his head out of the bedroom, eyes puffy. "Yeah?"

"Have you used your attic recently?"

He blinked. "What? No. It’s sealed. Or it should be. I haven’t been up there since I moved in. Why?"

I pointed.

His face went pale.

"What the hell..."

Grant followed my gaze. His hand moved back toward his belt.

"Could be rats," he offered.

"No," I said. "Too clean."

I reached up. Grabbed the ladder rung. It shifted slightly under my hand.

Something had pressed it down recently.

Something human.

Grant stepped in behind me. "We go up?"

I didn’t answer.

I was already climbing.

The attic groaned as I pushed the hatch fully open and hauled myself into the space.

Dark. Low ceiling. Smelled of insulation and dust. No lights—just thin, stale beams coming in from a side vent.

I crouched.

Waited.

Listened.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Fast. Fleeing.

By the time I turned, they were already at the far end of the crawlspace. A shadow slipping through the open window vent like smoke. I lunged forward, but the gap was too tight, and by the time I reached it—

Gone.

Just a swaying grate and a faint metallic echo.

The intruder had been here.

Still was here, while we were downstairs.

I pulled the window shut with a quiet snap. Looked down at the street three floors below.

They hadn’t left a mark.

But what they did leave behind were hundreds of boxes with what appeared to be pictures inside.