The Fray Theory: Resonance (15 page)

Intrigued, Neve pulls her
legs up on the couch and faces him with a tight smirk.

“Now… imagine there is
this big, glamorous event that only the world’s elite are invited to.”

“In which dimension?”

“
Both
,” his brows
rise.

A faint smile colors Neve’s
expression. “This event is the common denominator,” she nods, “where both of my
realities overlap.”

“It’s when your deviation
from your Proxy is zero: you are both in the same place, at the same time.”

“We’re in Sync,” Neve says,
her mind wandering back to how Galen put it: that you ‘feel connected’ to
something much bigger than yourself whenever you Resonate with your Proxy.

She looks down at the
formula, nearly certain that ‘R’ stands for Resonance. But when she looks up to
meet Dylan’s gaze, her smile melts right off her lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” Dylan snaps to
attention. “Oh—nothing.”

And Neve notices him pull
his index finger off one of the ‘death’ nodes on the final diagram.

Her fears come full
circle, reminding her of what their conclusions
really
mean.

“Can I just—” Dylan pulls
the book onto his own lap and flips back to the table of contents. His finger
traces down the list until it arrives at ‘Dreams’.

“Dylan,” Neve watches him
flip to the designated chapter and start to read.

And the fold between his
brows becomes deeper and deeper as his green eyes glide from left to right.

He flips to the following page,
but a few words in, slams the book shut.

“It’s okay,” Neve starts
to rub his back.

His breathing is rapid and
shallow, and his body quivers every time he exhales.

“You’re fine. Just keep
taking deep breaths,” she says, knowing exactly what he’s going through. She reaches
up and runs her hand through Dylan’s hair, just like how she used to whenever
they cuddled up on the couch.

“I’m okay,” he tries to
brush it off, but it’s clear he is nowhere near over the hump.

“Let me get you some
water,” Neve rises from the couch, but pauses. She bends down and takes Dylan’s
face into her hands, and plants a gentle kiss between his brows.

His eyes fall shut, and
for the first time, Neve feels what
he
felt every time he kissed her
worries away: the joy of his frown unfurling beneath her lips.

Parting with Dylan’s
smooth skin, Neve heads for the kitchen.

“I’m fine, Neve,” he calls
after her as she opens the fridge. “It’s nothing new.”

Neve turns to face him
with a pitcher of water in her hand.

Nothing new
?
Since when has he
—

An aggressive knock on the
front door makes her jump out of her skin.

“Jesus—” she puts the
pitcher down on the black stone countertop. “I’ll get it.”

“Just leave it,” Dylan’s
hushed voice reaches Neve from behind as she walks over to the door. She peers
through the peephole, and suddenly jolts back with a horrified gasp.

“What’s wrong!?” Dylan
springs to his feet.

‘Oh my
GOD
!’ Neve
mouths as she rushes back to him. “It’s that guy,” she whispers, “it’s the
creep that was following me!”

Despite
gripping Dylan’s switchblade in her hand, Neve can’t rid
herself of the fear wringing her insides. Hiding in his bedroom, she watches
Dylan through a hairline gap between the door and its frame. Bursts of
aggressive knocking continue to shake up the air, and Neve can’t imagine what
will happen once Dylan swings the apartment door open.

 How did her stalker find her? And
how did he get into the building? Did a neighbor let him in? If so, how did he
know which floor Neve ran up to? It’s not like the lift would have given her
away, she took the stairs.

Unless… The stalker isn’t after
her
.
He’s after—”

Neve flings her focus back onto
Dylan as he looks through the peephole. His intensity diminishes a bit, making
Neve wonder if it’s because he knows the man behind the door.

Is this whole thing just a huge
misunderstanding?

Another burst of aggressive
knocking.

“What do you want!?” Dylan shouts.

“RCMP! Open up!”

The police
? Neve’s glare tightens as Dylan glances in her direction,
looking completely puzzled.

Is her stalker just an undercover
cop? But even if so, why is he after
her
?

Her heart drops.

Is this about the cemetery? Romer
was convinced that they were being watched. Oh, she’s in so much trouble. And
she can’t even explain what happened!

The sound of Dylan unclasping the
locks beckons her attention.

No
,
don’t
!
Tell them I’m not here
!

The instant Dylan opens the door,
a group of men in black uniforms flood the foyer. Two of them grab Dylan by his
shoulders and arms, and bend him over the kitchen counter.

 A choked grunt escapes Dylan as
his face collides with the stone surface, and Neve jolts back, covering her mouth
at the sight of her stalker walking into the apartment following the initial
flurry.

His hollow gaze scours his
surroundings until it fixates onto something further ahead of him. He then
heads towards the living area, out of Neve’s narrow range of vision.

“What’s going on?” Dylan demands.

“You’re under arrest,”
says the thick-necked alpha applying his handcuffs.

“For
what
!?”

Moments later, the stalker
reappears in the foyer, slipping Galen’s book into a protective plastic case.

What
..? Neve gawks at him. The book was in her purse.
How did he know she even had it!?

Something’s wrong.
Something’s seriously wrong. And not the kind Neve can fix by bursting out of
the bedroom and claiming the blame.

These men seem dangerous.

All this over a book
?

Neve’s stalker scans his
vicinity, gives the alpha  in charge a terse nod, and then disappears into the
hallway with the book in his possession.

“What the hell is going
on!?” Dylan demands.

The man who cuffed him
grips the back of his neck and pulls him off the counter without uttering a
word. He then—with the aid of two others—escorts Dylan out of the apartment.

Those who remain behind start
to toss the place.

But they got the book
, Neve thinks.
What else are they looking for
?

She can’t think.
Everything is happening too fast. She needs to buy herself some time till she
can figure something out. But with the men guarding the front door, running is
out of the question.

She needs a better place
to hide. But where?
The closet? Under
the bed? They’d find her in
seconds
.

The moment the men are out
of her direct line of sight, she slides out of the bedroom and scampers all the
way down the adjacent hallway, opens the very last door, and sneaks into the
laundry room.

She gently shuts the door
behind her, but realizes it doesn’t lock from the inside.

Shit
!

As she turns around in a
state of panic, her eyes are stung by the glare of a big, bright square in the
ceiling.

Her pupils constrict, but once
her eyes adjust, she realizes what she’s looking at is not a light fixture, but
a rooftop-access hatch!

It’s almost unbelievable.

She bolts to the back of
the room and climbs the narrow metal ladder two rungs at a time. She fiddles
with the snap-closure of the hatch, and then pushes up against it.

The hinge squeaks, pinning
her in place like a thumbtack on a map. She can’t seem to open it any further
without it making more noise, so she rests the weight of the door onto her back
and struggles through the narrow gap.

Once her feet have cleared,
the door falls shut with a loud and echoing bang.

RUN
.

She breaks into a sprint towards
the rooftop exit, ready to explode through it. But at the touch of the door
handle, she suddenly hesitates.

What would a cop do in a
situation like this?

Cover all exits
.

Her realization punctures
her like a bullet wound, her hope spilling out.

She turns around,
expecting to be met with one of the men in her pursuit. Instead, she witnesses
a row of rooftop hatches trailing behind the one she just emerged from.

Her eyes widen. The very
last hatch is open, its door resting onto its retaining arm.

A sound comes from inside Dylan’s
unit.

They’re coming
.

Neve pushes on the
stairwell exit and swings it open so hard that it slams against the inner wall.

She then sprints past
Dylan’s hatch towards the opposite end of the roof, and climbs down through the
neighbor’s open hatch into their laundry room.

She bangs her fist against
the retaining arm and catches the hatch door as it falls down on her.

A moment later, she hears
the same squeak that gave her away, and watches the back of a man’s head emerge
from Dylan’s hatch—just in time for him to witness the rooftop exit door swinging
shut.

With a burst of static, he
relays this information over radio, and Neve knows her diversion was at least
somewhat successful.

She lowers the hatch door
into its frame, locks it, and exhales the breath she’s been holding onto.

She crawls down the ladder
and curls up in the corner of the room, but it’s no good. She’s still in full
view of anyone who might walk by on the roof.

A coarse and assertive voice
draws her attention from inside the apartment unit. She is almost certain it
belongs to one of the cops who partook in Dylan’s arrest.

Between him and the cop manning
the roof, her only viable escape routes have been compromised.

She squeezes her eyes
shut, trying to think a way out of this mess. She’s already managed to outsmart
them once, so it’s not impossible.

Think
! What else would a cop do?

What
wouldn’t
he
do?

Her eyes fly open.

She checks that the coast
is clear up on the roof, and then bolts towards the dryer and looks inside.

It’s a long shot, but it’s
her only shot.

She pulls the hamper
towards her and rakes out the dry clothes, sizes up the inside of the machine,
and with substantial effort, crawls into it.

Tight, bumpy, and painful.

But she fits!

She reaches out, grabs a
handful of clothes from the hamper, and starts to restock the confinement. It
doesn’t take much to conceal her, but she pulls it all back in. She just can’t risk
tipping off the owner. The hatch being locked from the inside is already a huge
discrepancy.

She grabs the dryer door
and shuts it as gently as she can. With it, what little light was seeping through
the folds in the clothes is snuffed out.

And now it’s a waiting
game.

There’s barely enough air
in here to sustain her for a few minutes, and she’s already starting to feel
dizzy from the thick scent of fabric-softener.

Her heart is drumming against
her ribcage, and her folded legs pressing onto her chest won’t let her take a
deep breath. But if there’s the slightest chance that she can evade those men—those
aggressive and frightening men—

Dylan
.

With the thought of him, a
pang of anxiety stabs the inside of her chest.

If Galen’s book was what those
men were after, then this entire thing is undeniably her fault.

What is she going to do?

What are
they
going
to do?

Her thoughts and breathing
cease immediately as the door to the laundry room is swung open.

“Here we are,” a woman’s
voice announces. “What exactly has she done, again?”

She
? So it
was
her they were after.

Another burst of static is
followed by a muffled mumble. Either they’ve caught onto her little stunt and
she’s about to be yanked out of the dryer, or—

“Thanks for your time,” says
the coarse voice, and then the laundry door moans shut with a small click.

Neve breaks into a silent
sob.

Her purse, along with her
keys and wallet are still back at Dylan’s.

If they didn’t already know
who she is, they sure as hell do now. And even if by some miracle Neve manages
to snag her keys back, going home would most likely mean walking straight into
their trap.

What has she gotten
herself into?

What was Galen so afraid
of?

What if the book isn’t
even
his
? Did he use Neve to smuggle out someone else’s property!?

With every labored breath,
the consequences of knowing about Galen’s theories become even more terrifying.

Knowledge is power. And
people kill for power.

What is she going to do?