The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 139

Ash slipped from his fingertips, the glowing ember brushing against the back of Franco’s hand before falling to the floor. Franco glanced over his shoulder at the old iron box, its rusty surface catching the dim light. His dark eyes seemed to blend right into the night outside the window.

“Open it.”

Jay set the box down on the table. The heavy padlock looked like it hadn’t budged in years, its keyhole packed with dirt and rust. With one hand steadying the box, Jay gripped the lock with the other. A quick twist and a sharp jolt, and the lock snapped off with a metallic clang.

Inside, a layer of black fabric wrapped something tightly, its material tough and unfamiliar. Jay pulled a short knife from his belt, sliding it carefully along the edge. The cloth peeled away, revealing a hard orange box with black lettering stamped across the top.

“It’s a black box,” Franco said quietly, his voice rough and a little strained.

Jay’s eyes narrowed as he read the label. His expression darkened. “This is the black box from your parents’ plane crash.”

The black box was the most important clue in any crash investigation, recording hours—sometimes even a whole day—of flight data. Its tough, specialized shell could protect that information for decades, even in the worst conditions. Franco’s parents’ accident had happened exactly twenty years ago.

Jay rubbed the black fabric between his fingers. Tiny silver particles fell onto the table. His face grew serious. “Silver fiber. It blocks signals.”

Before teaming up with Franco, Jay had worked as a mercenary along the border. He knew a thing or two about materials that could jam transmissions.

Normally, after a crash, the black box would send out a signal for thirty days to help investigators find it. But this layer of silver fiber could block all of that, making it completely invisible.

No wonder the White family, with all their power, had never managed to find it. Someone had wrapped the black box up, hidden it in an iron case, and buried it somewhere no one would ever think to look.

Franco reached out, his fingers cold as they brushed the orange box. His voice was raw. “Take it. Get someone to recover the data.”

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