Chapter 47: The Failed Call

I gripped the crystal pitcher until my knuckles turned as white as the sterile walls. Nine hours. The countdown wasn't a metaphor anymore; it was a physical weight crushing my lungs. Every time I exhaled, I felt a second of my life slip away.

I set the pitcher down on the carpeted floor of the closet. I needed to move. I needed to know if the message underneath the stamp had actually been a lifeline or just a cruel final irony.

I pulled out the prepaid burner phone Brenda had smuggled to me. I had kept it off to save the battery, terrified that the slight glow would betray me through the louvered closet doors.

I held the power button. The screen flickered to life, the harsh blue light illuminating the row of Mark’s suits hanging above me. I waited for the signal bars to populate.

One bar. No, zero.

*Searching... No Service.*

The jammer. Mark must have moved it closer to the master suite. They were sealing the digital exits one by one, turning the house into a vacuum where no scream—electronic or otherwise—could escape.

I crawled to the very back of the closet, pressing the phone against the exterior wall. If I could just catch a sliver of the neighbor’s signal, a ghost of a connection from Mrs. Gable’s house.

Nothing. Just a mocking 'X' over the signal icon.

Panic flared in my throat, hot and restrictive. I was a ghost in my own home, already dead to the world outside these glass walls. Elena Rostova was a professional. She didn't leave loose ends. She didn't leave witnesses.

*Think, Elara. Think.*

If I couldn't call out, I had to find another way to bridge the gap. I looked at the burner phone. It was a cheap piece of plastic, but it had a camera. A low-resolution, grainy lens that could capture the truth.

I crawled out of the closet, staying flat on my stomach. I navigated the minefield of the master bedroom, keeping below the line of the windows. I reached the smart hub mounted on the wall. Its small, circular screen was dark, but the power light was a steady, sinister green.

This hub controlled everything. The locks. The lights. The cameras. And it was hardwired into the house’s fiber optic line.

If I could hijack the hub, I could bypass the jammer.

I reached up, my fingers trembling as I touched the bottom edge of the hub’s casing. There was a small recessed screw. I didn't have a screwdriver, but I had the metal bracket I’d pried from the nightstand earlier.

I jammed the edge of the bracket into the screw head. I twisted. The metal screeched, a sound that felt loud as a gunshot in the silent house.

I froze. Downstairs, the murmur of voices stopped.

"Did you hear that?" Chloe’s voice was sharp, alert.

"The wind," Mark replied, but his footsteps moved toward the stairs.

I worked faster, ignoring the sweat stinging my eyes. The screw turned. Half a rotation. A full one. The casing popped loose, dangling by a cluster of multicolored wires.

I looked at the port on the side of the internal board. It was a micro-USB. The exact same port used to charge the burner phone.

I reached for the cable in my pocket, my heart hammering against the floorboards. If I plugged the phone into the hub, I wasn't just charging it. I was tethering it to the only line left in the house that wasn't being choked by the jammer.

I slid the connector into the port. The phone vibrated in my hand.

My phone showed 'No Service'. But the Smart Hub was hardwired.