Unmasked

Chapter Nine

Jade

The police station smells like disinfectant and burnt coffee.

Jade sits with her hands wrapped around a paper cup she hasn’t touched, watching a red light blink above the interrogation room door. Lila is on the other side of it. Alive. Breathing. Wrapped in a blanket that doesn’t look warm enough for what she’s been through.

Jade keeps replaying the moment the rope snapped.

The moment Lila stood up.

The moment the world stopped holding its breath.

“You did good,” a voice says.

Jade looks up to see Detective Harris standing beside her, tall and tired-eyed. He has the look of someone who’s seen too many endings that didn’t end well.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Jade replies.

He nods once. “It rarely does.”

Across the room, Amir sits hunched over, answering questions from another officer. His hands shake when he talks. Jade knows that look—his brain still racing, trying to solve something that hasn’t finished unfolding.

Because it hasn’t.

The antagonist got away.

And that thought sits heavy in Jade’s chest.

Amir

The interrogation room is too bright.

Amir squints under the fluorescent lights as the detective across from him flips through a tablet filled with screenshots—timestamps, usernames, livestream stills.

“This hidden account,” the detective says. “You’re the one who found it?”

“Yes,” Amir answers. “But they wanted me to.”

The detective pauses. “Explain.”

Amir swallows. “The posts weren’t random. They were bait. Each one was designed to see who would notice patterns. Who would follow clues instead of reacting emotionally.”

“So they were recruiting,” the detective says.

“No,” Amir replies. “They were mirroring.”

The detective raises an eyebrow.

“They wanted someone like them,” Amir continues. “Someone who understood how to control a narrative. How to turn real life into content.”

He hesitates. “They wanted an audience that could keep up.”

The detective studies him for a long moment. “And Lila?”

Amir’s jaw tightens. “Lila figured it out.”

Lila

Talking hurts more than the bruises.

Not physically—those are manageable. It’s the remembering that makes Lila’s hands tremble.

The detective sits across from her, voice gentle, steady. “Start wherever you need to.”

Lila exhales slowly. “They were always there.”

“Who?”

She looks up. “My manager.”

The word hangs in the air like broken glass.

“They helped me grow my account,” Lila continues. “Got me brand deals. Told me when to post, what to say, who to be.”

Her voice cracks. “They said it was protection.”

The detective’s expression hardens. “And when did that change?”

“When I tried to stop,” Lila says.

She tells them about the messages. The reflections. The feeling of being owned instead of supported. About discovering the hidden account by accident—logged in on a second phone she hadn’t known existed.

“They told me the audience wouldn’t let me leave,” Lila says quietly. “That I was more valuable as a mystery than a person.”

The detective exhales sharply. “And the livestream?”

“I planned it,” Lila admits. “Not the kidnapping. The signal.”

She looks down at her hands. “I knew they watched everything. I needed proof. I needed witnesses.”

“And blinking twice?” the detective asks.

Lila’s eyes fill. “I hoped Jade would see.”

Jade

The door opens.

Jade stands so fast her chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

Lila steps out, smaller somehow, but real. Jade doesn’t hesitate—she pulls her into a tight hug, careful of the bruises, breathing her in like oxygen.

“You’re here,” Jade whispers. “You’re really here.”

Lila nods against her shoulder. “You came.”

“Always.”

Detective Harris clears his throat. “We have enough to issue a warrant. Financial abuse. Coercion. Stalking. Kidnapping. And the livestream sealed it.”

Jade’s heart lifts—then stumbles. “But they ran.”

“Yes,” he says. “But they didn’t disappear.”

He gestures to a screen mounted on the wall.

The livestream footage plays—frozen on the antagonist’s face, caught in perfect clarity for half a second before they fled.

A face everyone recognizes.

A face trusted by hundreds of young creators.

“They built a brand on safety,” the detective says grimly. “And now the world is watching them instead.”

Amir

Amir joins them just as the screen fills with notifications—news alerts, trending tags, reactions exploding across platforms.

Influencer Manager Exposed

Midnight Livestream Kidnapping Case

The Dark Side of Online Fame

“They wanted attention,” Amir murmurs. “They got it.”

“But not the way they planned,” Jade says.

Lila watches the screen, expression unreadable. “They taught me how to control a story.”

She looks at them both. “Now I’m taking it back.”

Later, as dawn bleeds into the sky outside the station, the three of them sit together in silence.

“So,” Jade says softly. “What happens now?”

Lila exhales. “Now I disappear. For real. No streams. No posts. No audience.”

Amir nods. “That’s probably smart.”

She smiles faintly. “But not forever.”

Jade tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“I still have a voice,” Lila says. “I just won’t let anyone else own it.”

Outside, sirens fade into the morning traffic. Somewhere, phones buzz with updates, theories, outrage.

But inside the station, the story has finally slowed.

The antagonist is unmasked.

The audience is watching.

And this time, the truth isn’t blinking.