Voices in the Dark

Chapter Seven

Jade

The warehouse smelled like rust and river water—sharp, metallic, and old. Jade gagged as she stepped inside, the beam from her phone flashlight slicing through the darkness like it didn’t belong there.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“You’re doing great,” Amir said, but his voice echoed too loudly, bouncing off concrete and metal. “Just… stay close.”

They shouldn’t have come alone. Jade knew that. Every logical part of her brain had screamed police, parents, literally anyone else. But logic hadn’t helped Lila.

And logic hadn’t sent the message.

Midnight again tonight.

The location had come ten minutes later. No address. Just a dropped pin near the river—the same river from the blurry photo on the hidden account.

Some places remember you.

Jade’s hands shook as she swept the light across the warehouse interior. Broken crates. Torn plastic sheets. A shopping cart tipped on its side like it had been abandoned mid-escape.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “What if it’s a trap?”

“It is a trap,” Amir said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not also a clue.”

Jade shot him a look. “You’re not comforting.”

“I know.”

They moved deeper inside. The farther they went, the colder it felt, like the building itself was holding its breath.

Jade’s phone buzzed.

She froze.

Amir stopped instantly. “What is it?”

She looked down.

@midnight.liv: You came.

Her chest tightened. “They know we’re here.”

Another message appeared.

Good. Now listen.

Before Jade could respond, a sound echoed through the warehouse.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

Amir grabbed her wrist. “Lights off. Now.”

They plunged into darkness.

Jade’s heart hammered so loudly she was sure whoever was walking toward them could hear it. She crouched behind a stack of crates, Amir beside her, their shoulders pressed together.

The footsteps stopped.

Then a voice drifted through the dark.

“You’re braver than I thought,” it said.

Not Lila.

Definitely not.

Jade swallowed hard. “What do you want?” she called, her voice shaking despite herself.

A laugh echoed back—soft, amused. “Still pretending this is about what I want?”

Amir leaned toward her ear. “Keep them talking.”

Jade took a breath. “If you have Lila, let her go. This has gone too far.”

Silence.

Then: “You think this started with her disappearing?”

A shadow moved across the far wall, distorted and tall.

“This started when she realized the truth,” the voice continued. “That being seen doesn’t mean being safe.”

Jade felt tears sting her eyes. “Where is she?”

Another step closer.

“You’re asking the wrong question.”

Amir’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He stiffened.

Jade glanced at him, eyes wide.

He slowly pulled it out and looked at the screen.

A livestream notification.

@midnight.liv is live.

Amir’s blood ran cold.

He tapped the screen.

Amir

The stream opened to darkness. Just like before.

Breathing filled his headphones—slow, uneven, too close to the mic.

Then the camera shifted.

Amir’s stomach dropped.

It was the warehouse.

Their warehouse.

The angle was wrong—higher than eye level. Mounted. Hidden.

“They’re watching us,” he whispered.

Jade’s eyes darted upward.

The voice spoke again, now clearer through the stream.

“You see,” it said, “this is the problem with audiences. They never know when to stop watching.”

The camera tilted.

For half a second, Amir thought he imagined it.

Then the light caught her face.

“Lila,” Jade breathed.

She was pale. Bruised. Her hair tangled, eyes glassy—but open.

Alive.

“Lila!” Jade screamed, bolting forward.

Amir grabbed her arm. “Wait!”

Too late.

The lights snapped on.

Harsh white bulbs flooded the warehouse, burning Amir’s eyes. Jade stumbled into the open, her sobs echoing off the walls.

“Lila!” she cried again.

The camera zoomed in on Lila’s face.

Her lips parted.

“Jade,” she whispered.

Amir’s heart cracked.

Then the voice cut in, sharp now. Irritated.

“No touching. Not yet.”

A figure stepped into the light behind Lila.

Not a stranger.

Someone Amir recognized.

His breath left him in a rush. “No… no, that’s not possible.”

Jade turned slowly, dread creeping up her spine. “Amir?”

He couldn’t speak.

The figure smiled.

“You’re smart,” they said to Amir. “Smarter than I expected.”

Jade’s knees nearly buckled. “You know them?”

Amir nodded, numb. “They were there. At school. Around her. Around us.”

The figure tilted their head. “Careful. You’re ruining the reveal.”

Lila’s eyes filled with tears. “I tried to tell you,” she said softly. “But every time I got close… something went wrong.”

The stream comments exploded—viewers pouring in, hearts and shocked emojis flooding the screen.

“This ends now,” Jade said, stepping forward again. “You don’t get to turn her into content.”

The figure laughed. “Too late.”

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed as a door slammed shut behind them.

Amir spun around.

Locked.

The voice lowered, dangerous now. “You wanted to find her. Congratulations.”

The lights flickered.

Lila cried out.

And the livestream timer ticked past twelve.