Mind Code (Coded Connections Duet #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Misha

My eyes are burning from hours of sifting through data and camera feeds. Oliver sits beside me, his brow furrowed in concentration. We’ve been at this all morning, trying to identify the bastard who broke into Amelia’s apartment and stole her work. The tension in the room is palpable, and I can feel a headache coming on.

“Anything?” I ask, rubbing my tired eyes. I can feel the grit in them, knowing well that the few hours I got to sleep last night weren’t enough, not in the slightest.

Oliver shakes his head, his shoulders slumping. “Nothing concrete. The motion detection picked up his movements, but you saw yourself how he’s covered head to toe in black. Face mask, gloves… the works. It’s like we’re dealing with a ghost. And it’s not like we know what we’re doing.”

I lean back in my chair, frustration bubbling up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. “How the hell did he even get inside?” I mutter, more to myself than to Oliver.

Elysium has some of the highest security standards for their apartments, everything is set up with personal smart watches and codes, and yet someone had waltzed right through it. There is nothing in the log that tells us her door was even opened after Amelia locked it when Oliver took her out for their date.

Before Oliver can respond, Grey strolls in, a hint of a smirk on his face. His casual demeanor makes my hackles rise instantly. “Where’s Amelia?” he asks, his eyes scanning the room.

Oliver and I exchange glances before I say bitterly, “We thought she was still with you. Like all day and night yesterday.”

Grey’s smirk widens, and I can already tell he’s about to say something infuriating. “I thought you said there’d be no jealousy between us if we wanted to share.”

Oliver huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, when we actually get her to agree to it. Before then, I can be as jealous as I want.”

“I’m sure she’ll agree,” Grey says, his tone annoyingly smug, and I resist the urge to throw something at him.

“How do you know?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. I feel a twinge of jealousy myself, wondering what they did that gave him that smugness.

Grey’s eyes glint mischievously, like a cat that’s caught a particularly juicy mouse. “I have my ways of persuading her.”

He so fucked her.

Bastard.

“What did you do?” Oliver asks, looking confused, his brow furrowed.

Oh, sweet summer child.

“I’ll explain later,” Grey says, taking pity on Oliver. “First, I want to make breakfast for Amelia. Any idea where she could be? ”

“Maybe she went home to grab some stuff?” I suggest, though even as I say it, I know it doesn’t sound right.

Grey frowns, his playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. “No, she said she was afraid to be alone in her apartment right now.”

A knot forms in my stomach. Our apartment has been silent all morning.

“Ollie, check the feed anyway,” I say, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

Oliver changes the view from the replay of her place on the night someone broke in, to the live feed. The room is empty, and there are still a few things that are not as tidy as they used to be, but what catches my eye is a piece of paper on the dining table. There’s a note clearly visible to the cameras in Amelia’s handwriting.

Have fun watching the fish.

My blood runs cold, and it’s like I’ve been doused in ice water. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Grey asks, leaning in to look at the screen, the heat of his body next to mine doing nothing to warm the chill that’s settled over me.

“You don’t think… did she find out about us watching her?” Oliver’s voice is filled with dread.

Grey shakes his head, but I see doubt in his eyes. “That’s not possible. How could she have—”

“Go back in the feed,” I interrupt, my heart racing so fast I’m surprised it hasn’t burst out of my chest.

Oliver rewinds the footage, his hands shaking. We watch in stunned silence as Amelia enters her apartment in the middle of the night, hastily packing a bag. She writes the note, places it on the table, and turns to leave.

At the door, she pauses, looking back—a gesture that speaks volumes. In that moment, I see the hurt, betrayal, and determination in her eyes, and it feels like a knife twisting in my gut.

“Fuck,” Grey breathes out, the word hanging heavy in the air. “She’s gone.”

“How the hell did she find out?” I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the curls in frustration. My mind races, trying to figure out where we slipped up, how we could have been so careless.

I can’t even imagine how hurt she must be.

Oliver’s face is pale, eyes wide with panic. He stares at me, his desperation palpable. “What do we do? We can’t just let her leave like this.” I check the time on the feed, then my watch. “She’s been gone for hours.”

Grey pulls out his phone, his expression tense. “We need to find her. Now .” The urgency in his tone is clear, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing.

We can’t lose her.

As Grey tries to track her via the app he installed, I stand, pacing the room like a caged animal. The weight of our actions crashes down on me. We violated her trust, invaded her privacy, and might have lost her forever.

Rightfully so.

The thought makes me feel sick, and a wave of nausea washes over me, threatening to overwhelm my senses. My stomach churns, and I have to take deep breaths to keep myself from retching.

“We fucked up,” Oliver whispers, voicing what we’re all thinking. “We really fucked up.”

“I can’t find her,” Grey grunts, getting more and more agitated while tapping his phone screen. His fingers move frantically, desperation evident in every swipe. “She has probably uninstalled the app.” He lets himself sink down on his chair, yelling, “Fuck!” while letting his phone clatter on the desk. The sound of plastic hitting wood echoes through the room. “I should have tracked her GPS!”

“And you think that would have made the situation better now? Another point on her list of reasons to hate us?” I ask, bitter sarcasm lacing every word.

“At least I’d know where on this fucking planet she was hating me from!” Grey yells at me, and I can’t even be mad at him for it.

She could be anywhere.

“I tried calling her, looks like her phone is off. I’m texting Morgan now. Maybe she’s with them,” Oliver says, typing on his phone. His voice is steady, but there is a slight tremor in his hands.

Sinking back into my chair, I feel utterly defeated. The new silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the computers. I look at Grey and Oliver, and I see my own guilt and fear reflected in their eyes.

We’ve crossed a line, and now we have to face the consequences.

The question is, will Amelia ever forgive us?

And more importantly, will we ever forgive ourselves for driving her away?