Emerson’s hands clench at his sides. “They can’t hide forever. They’re desperate, which means they’ll slip up. It’s just a matter of time.”
I nod slowly, eyes narrowing on the dead monitors. “Then we make damn sure we’re ready when they do.”
They move toward the door, both looking wrecked in that way men do when they’ve hit their limit but refuse to admit it.
When they’re gone, I sink into the chair, cracking my knuckles until the sound echoes through the room. The keys are cool under my fingers as I wake up the screens, rows of code and encrypted feeds spilling out in front of me. I can tell at a glance it’s bad—some signals are dead, trackers gone dark, communication lines scrambled to hell.
“Motherfuckers,” I growl under my breath. “You think you can hide from me?”
The system fights back, sluggish with corrupted data, but I’ve always been good at breaking things open. It’s the only genuine talent I’ve ever had—breaking what doesn’t want to be broken. I dig in deep, tracing the ghosts of their digital footprints, following half-burned trails across encrypted networks. Every move I make reveals another layer of how much they’ve covered their tracks, but I don’t care. The more they hide, the more it pisses me off.
I lean closer to the screen, its glow bleaching my face. My reflection looks feral—bloodshot eyes, clenched jaw, a man fueled by spite and grief. “You can cover your tracks all you want,” I mutter, voice low. “But we’re coming for you. You don’t get to touch what’s ours and walk away breathing.”
The cursor blinks as if it’s mocking me. I slam my palm down on the desk, the sound sharp in the silence. “Fuck!” The shout burns through my throat, but it doesn’t help. I drag my hand over my face, forcing myself to breathe.
They took Kimber. The thought is a constant, pounding rhythm in my skull. They took a kid. Our family. And that’s what kills me—the one line we’d never cross, the one they just spit on.
I keep working, jaw tight, scanning for even a flicker of a trace. If there’s a whisper of her voice or a signal ping that matches one of their devices, I’ll find it. I’ll tear through every firewall, every defense, until I’ve got them by the throat.
The room creaks as the house settles, a reminder of how quiet it is without laughter. My eyes flick to the doorway. I can hear faint movements down the hall, probably Rowan settling Berkley back into bed, Emerson finally letting himself collapse. They deserve that. I’ll hold the line until they wake.
My fingers fly over the keys, the screen a blur of data. “You’re dead men,” I whisper to no one, the words a promise that tastes like ash and blood. “Every one of you.”
Outside, the sky’s darkening again, the edges of the day bleeding into night. Perfect. Because when the world sleeps, that’s when men like me do their best work.
Berkley’s footsteps hit my radar before I see her. They’re light, deliberate, that signature sound of someone who could slip through shadows and slit a throat before her target ever saw her coming. Even barefoot, she moves with the same quiet precision she uses to dismantle men twice her size—and damn if that image doesn’t go straight to my dick.
I stop typing, fingers hovering above the keys as I turn in my chair. She’s standing in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, her hair a tangled mess that somehow looks intentional, wild, perfect. The soft light from the monitors paints her blue and gold, the glow catching the edge of her cheekbone, the small curve of her smirk. She’s wearing one of my shirts—too big, hanging off one shoulder—and the sight alone makes my pulse kick.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur, voice rough from hours without talking. “You get enough sleep?”
She tilts her head, expression unreadable. For a second, I think she’s going to scold me for staying up, but then she crosses the room and climbs into my lap like she’s been doing it all her life. The heat of her body sinks into me immediately, grounding and dangerous all at once. I rest my hands on her hips, keeping her close.
Her eyes drift to the screens, the endless strings of code and static feeds. “Any luck?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not much. The bastards are smarter than we gave them credit for; every trace we find, they’ve already covered. Whoever’s cleaning up after them knows what they’re doing. They’ve turned ghost—no signals, no accounts, no leaks.”
She hums thoughtfully, the corner of her mouth curling upward in a way that makes her look like she’s plottingsomeone’s death—and loving it. “Then they still have allies,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. “And if they have allies, they’re still reachable.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” I say, giving her hip a squeeze. “So, we reverse-engineer it. Find whoever’s been scrubbing their mess. Everyone leaves a footprint eventually.” Her grin sharpens, and for the first time since everything went to hell, she looks alive again. “Did those clumsy fools wake you?” I ask, jerking my chin toward the hallway.
She laughs softly, a sound that doesn’t quite reach her eyes but still pulls something loose in my chest. “No. They kept me warm when you abandoned me.”
I clutch my chest in mock offense. “You wound me, my lady.” I lean forward, catching her chin and tilting her face toward mine. Her lips are soft and warm when I kiss her—slow, deliberate, full of everything we can’t put into words.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers. “You want to help me tear into these fuckers and find their mole?”
Her breath hitches, and the wicked glint in her eyes returns. “You know I’d love nothing more,” she says, her voice dropping low. She cups my cheek, thumb brushing my jaw, then slides off my lap and into the chair beside me.
“First one to the clue gets to kill them?” she teases, arching an eyebrow.
“Damn,” I mutter, grinning. “You’re fucking sexy when you threaten to kill people.”
Her head tilts, her smirk widening as she wiggles her fingers in a mock taunt. “Worried you won’t win?”
“Not even close,” I say, leaning back in my chair, letting my grin spread slow and wolfish. “But when I win, I’m bending you over this table.”
She hums, turning her attention to the screens, her voice all silk and challenge. “We’ll see.”