Cash Baker leaned against the grand piano, headphones hanging around his neck, strumming absent-mindedly at a melody that had haunted him for weeks. Mychael Torres sat across from him, tapping a pen against a notebook filled with scribbles that looked more like codes than lyrics.
"Dude, I'm telling you," Mychael said, leaning back, "there's something off about these tracks. It's like… someone else left them here. Someone who knows your brain better than you do."
Cash smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You think Cypriana left me a message through a song?" His voice was a joke, but the tremor in it betrayed him.
Mychael didn't answer. He just narrowed his eyes at the waveforms on the screen.
Flashback – Three Years Ago
The memory hit Maverick without warning. He was 19, standing outside the small, dimly lit train station in Tulsa. Cypriana Vale had clutched a tattered backpack to her chest, eyes wide and trembling, lips pressed into a hard line.
"I have to go," she whispered.
Maverick's hands ached to grab her, to stop her. But he hadn't. Cash had been laughing somewhere in the background, oblivious, humming a melody that would haunt Maverick in dreams for years.
"Why?" Maverick finally asked, voice cracking.
Cypriana looked at him, eyes deep, quiet, almost imploring. "Because silence… sometimes saves more than words ever could."
And then she turned, boarding the train without a backward glance. Maverick had stayed on the platform long after the train had disappeared, feeling the chill of empty air and the weight of unsaid goodbyes.
He had been the last to see her. And he had never stopped wondering why.
Present Day – Studio
Cash hummed low, tuning his guitar. "You think she'll ever come back?" His voice was almost casual, but the way his fingers trembled on the strings betrayed him.
Maverick didn't answer immediately. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the way the light from the neon sign outside bounced across the piano's surface.
"Look," Maverick said finally. "Even if she does… we're not ready. Not yet. There are things we don't understand, things she won't tell us."
Cash rolled his eyes, frustration bubbling. "You always say that. But I'm done waiting. She left. Three years. And now—"
"Don't," Maverick snapped, cutting him off. "Don't make this about you. This isn't just your song, Cash. She matters to both of us. And you know it."
Mychael looked between them, sensing the storm in their tones. He cleared his throat. "Maybe you should step back. Listen to the track again. Something's hidden there, like… instructions."
Cash ignored him, lifting the headphones back over his ears. The melody hit him, familiar yet strange. It wasn't just music. It was a message, like someone had carved it into the notes.
Flashback – Cash and Cypriana
Another memory surfaced, this time Cash's. He was 17. Cypriana had leaned against the old oak tree behind their high school, notebook in hand, doodling furiously.
"You ever feel like no one really listens?" she asked, eyes tracing the lines she drew.
"Sometimes," Cash admitted. "But people notice you. That's enough, right?"
She shook her head. "Not when it matters. You'll see. One day, you'll realize it's the silent ones who matter most."
Cash had laughed, but he remembered the hollow edge to her tone, the way her hands trembled slightly. He hadn't understood then, but now every lyric, every pause in his music, reminded him of her.
Studio – Evening
Cash's fingers moved faster, almost desperately, playing notes he couldn't name, only feel.
Maverick finally walked over and pressed a hand to the piano beside him. "Stop."
Cash froze. "Stop? What—"
"You're letting her control you," Maverick said softly. "Even before she's here."
"Mychael's right," Mychael interjected. "These songs… they're not random. Someone left them here on purpose. And it's not just a message for Cash. It's a map. A warning. Maybe even a trap."
Cash's jaw tightened. "Then we find her. Tonight. Before it gets worse."
Maverick said nothing, only stared at the floor. Memories of the train station, the silence, the last words she had whispered, all pressed in on him.
Flashback – Maverick's Final Memory of Cypriana
It had been raining lightly that day. Maverick had caught her hand just as the train began to move.
"Wait," he had said, voice almost shaking.
She had turned, drenched, hair plastered to her forehead, and smiled faintly — a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You can't save me. Not yet."
And with that, she had let go, stepping onto the train without looking back.
The memory left a hollow ache in Maverick's chest. He had never forgiven himself for not insisting, for not fighting harder. And now, every sound, every lyric, every silence, carried her echo.
Studio – Night
Hours passed. The room grew colder. Cash leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. Mychael was murmuring to himself, scribbling notes in the margin of his pad.
Maverick stood by the window, looking out at the quiet street below. The neon sign flickered intermittently, casting a staccato glow across his features. And then, in the corner of the studio, a small notification pinged on the screen.
A message.
No sender. No words.
Just a single video file.
Maverick and Cash exchanged a glance.
They opened it together.
The screen flickered. A soft, haunting voice whispered their names. And there she was. Cypriana.
Only she wasn't smiling.
The last frame froze on her eyes — calm, piercing, and unreadable.
And in that instant, everything changed.