The silence after the screen went black didn't feel empty.
It felt loaded.
Like something was still there, watching, waiting for the next move.
Dante didn't step away from the console.
Didn't look at the girl.
Didn't move at all.
Because if he moved
If he broke focus even for a second
he might lose whatever thin connection was left.
"She's not gone," he said.
The girl crossed her arms, tension tight in her shoulders. "That didn't look like a normal disconnect."
"It wasn't."
"Then what was it?"
Dante's jaw tightened slightly.
"Interference."
A pause.
Then
"Or containment."
That word landed heavy.
Because containment meant one thing.
Something had reached her.
Something had cut the connection.
And it wasn't on their side.
The girl stepped closer to the console, scanning the now-dark screen like she could force it back to life.
"If they got into that layer…" she started.
Dante finished it.
"They didn't just find her."
"They found access."
Silence.
