Beastly: Sequel to "Mr. Perfect"

Chapter 33: Hackers and Recovery Centers

🌸Faith (P.O.V.)🌸

Roberto leaned back in his chair, spinning slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Aight, so listen, Coach....Annika wasn't trippin'," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean what she told you 'bout the girls not showin' up in the system," he said. "It's real. I checked fo' myself."

My heart skipped.

"You got into Tybalt's records?" I said.

"I hacked into his record system last night," Roberto said, like it was casual. "Security weak as hell. Like embarrassingly, weak for' someone who got all them eyes on him."

DJ nodded in agreement, arms crossed.

"Weak and shady," he said.

"I got in thinkin' maybe Annika just ain't search deep enough," Roberto continued. "But nah...I saw what she was talkin' 'bout. There's nothin' in the database on Nadine, Arcely, and Zuri."

My stomach dropped.

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"Other than what's in the folder you gave us, nothin' else," he said. "Not even a corrupted thumbnail or some buried metadata. And I got deep in there."

Roberto shook his head.

"Whoever cleaned house did it heavily," he said. "That was a full-blown nuclear wipe."

He clicked through a few windows on the monitor, then turned back to me.

"We also checked the folders you gave us last night again, but you already know there's only bits and pieces on there," he said. "Headshots, a couple dates, sign-in sheets, maybe a few bookin' notes, but it's incomplete. Like it was just enough to prove the girls existed—but not enough to track them."

DJ crossed his arms.

"The folders messy as hell," he said. "No addresses, no emergency contacts, no payroll info. That's all they have in the system, too."

"This ain't just bad organization," Roberto said. "That's intentional. Like someone planted enough info to fake a trail—then wiped everything else.

"But that doesn't make sense," I said. "Zuri was there. We saw her. She danced with us during the first music video shoot."

"Yeah, we know, but whoever behind this obviously doesn't want any of these girls tracked or located," DJ said.

The weight in my chest began to build.

My hands clenched at my sides, the image of Zuri's face flickering in my head.

Roberto must've caught the shift in my energy, because he gently tapped on the edge of the desk and looked me dead in the eyes.

"Brace yourself," he said. "That ain't even the worst part."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"DJ and I both tried running searches. Like deep dives. Socials, tags, public records, dance registrations. And nothing for all three girls."

DJ stepped forward.

"And that's weird, Coach," he said. "You know how it is nowadays. Everybody got somethin' online. Even folks who tryna stay low key still pop up on somebody's IG story. But with these three? Nothing."

"Not even old photos," Roberto added. "It's like they was scrubbed clean."

"Whoever made them disappear didn't just hide 'em—they made sure nobody would ever find 'em again."