Chapter 26 The ally
The words hung in the air between us, a lifeline and a trap, all twisted together.
I need your help.
Relief was still a physical thing, a thawing in my chest that made it easier to breathe. But it was instantly flooded by a colder, sharper understanding. This wasn’t over. It was worse. Someone wasn’t just trying to ruin a project; they were aiming for me, specifically. A target had been painted on my back, and I hadn’t even seen the brush.
My fingers tightened on the security report. The paper was crisp, official. “Inside your house,” I repeated, my voice sounding steadier than I felt. “Who?”
Rhys didn’t answer immediately. He walked back to the window, looking out at the bruised sky. A low rumble of thunder echoed the one in my head. “That’s what we need to find out. The access was spoofed. It was made to look like it came from your credentials, from your machine’s digital signature. But the origin point was internal, routed through a server with higher-level clearance than yours or anyone at Crestline’s.”
“Marcus,” I said flatly. The memory of his flinty eyes, his polished contempt, was fresh.
Rhys turned, a faint, grim shadow of a smile touching his mouth. “Too obvious. And Marcus, for all his… qualities… is not subtle. His ambition is for the bottom line, not for burning the house down. Sabotaging Titan hurts Axiom. It hurts him.”
“Then who gains?” I asked, the analyst in me clawing its way to the surface through the personal shock.
“A competitor. A shareholder with a different vision. Someone with a personal grudge.” He listed the possibilities, his tone detached, but his eyes were alive, scanning my face as if looking for connections. “Or someone who wants you out of the way.”
The last one landed like a punch. “Me? Why? I’m a consultant. I’m temporary.”
“You’re the link,” he said, moving closer again. He stopped a few feet away, not crowding me, but his presence filled the room. The sandalwood and clean linen scent was undercut now by something else—the sharp, electric smell of ozone before a storm. “You’re the conduit between Axiom and Crestline. Discredit you, and the entire partnership frays. The deal becomes a liability. It could unravel Titan before it even begins.”
He was right. If I were proven to be a leak, even falsely, Crestline would be fired. The project would be delayed, maybe scrapped. Reputations, including Silas’s, would be scorched earth.
“So this is a warning shot,” I murmured, more to myself. “Frame the new girl, see if it causes enough panic to sink the ship.”
“Or it’s the first move in a longer game,” Rhys said. “The data leaked was strategic, but not the crown jewels. Enough to cause a scandal, to point fingers, but not enough to truly cripple us. It’s a test. Of our security. Of our reaction.” His gaze locked onto mine. “Of my reaction.”
The subtext was clear. Last night had changed something. The quiet moment in the car, the unspoken things. Had someone seen? Had it made me look like more than a consultant? Like a weakness?
“You think they’re targeting you through me,” I said.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that you are a highly visible pressure point. And I need to know if applying that pressure is the main goal, or if you’re just collateral damage in a larger war.”
The clinical way he said it should have chilled me. Instead, it grounded me. This was a problem to be solved. A hostile actor. Compromised data. I knew this language. It was the language of my job, just played with live ammunition.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked.
He nodded, as if he’d been waiting for the question. “First, we maintain the narrative. Outside this room, you are under suspicion. Marcus believes it. The board will believe it. It’s the only way to force the real leaker to get comfortable, to get careless.”
“So I’m the public sacrifice,” I said, a bitter taste in my mouth.
“You’re the stealth operative,” he corrected, a hard edge in his voice. “Your access at Crestline will be officially ‘reviewed,’ but Silas will be informed you’re clean. You’ll continue your work, but you’ll also be my eyes there. Look for anything off. Anyone too interested in your work, asking unusual questions. Any system anomalies you notice, no matter how small.”
“And here?”
“Here, you’ll be watched. Elinor reports to Marcus. Most of the staff will avoid you. Use that. Notice who doesn’t. Notice who seems overly sympathetic, or who tries to pry.” He paused. “And you’ll report only to me. Directly. No emails. No messages through channels. We meet. Here. Or somewhere else discreet.”
The idea of more clandestine meetings with Rhys Thorne sent a treacherous, unwelcome thrill through my veins, immediately followed by a wave of nausea. This wasn’t a romance. This was a counter-intelligence operation.
“Somewhere else?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“My car. A private dining room. We’ll figure it out.” He ran a hand through his hair, the first sign of real fatigue I’d seen since I walked in. “Harper.” He used my first name, and it sounded like a concession, a crack in his armor. I would not ask this if I saw another path. You are in