I gave a short nod but didn’t stop working. Absently, I was aware of Skye sitting down at the table beside me. My first instinct was to reach for her, comfort her, but that wouldn’t be most helpful right now. Right now, I needed to focus on figuring out who was behind this.
The files were there—video recordings, timestamps, and upload logs. Whoever set this up knew what they were doing, but not well enough. I’d traced worse.
The footage was being routed through an app-based cloud service, as well as stored locally on the SD card—a setup often used for backup and remote access. Sloppy.
No shell company. No encryption layers. Just an app. Someone got comfortable.
My jaw ticced as I followed the trail by mapping IP addresses, checking metadata, and digging through the access logs tied to the cloud service.
Then, an email popped up.
It was unremarkably simple. I paused, taking some extra time to decide whether I recognized it. I was fairly certain I didn’t.
“What’s that?” Skye’s voice cut in behind me. She’d been quietly watching, sitting near me at the table.
“Email tied to the account,” I explained. “Whoever set up the cameras must’ve registered the cloud feed with it.”
She leaned in. Her brow furrowed. “That looks familiar,” she muttered. She studied the username a bit longer before pulling out her phone. “I think I need to talk to Ash.”
Skye jumped to her feet, her chair almost toppling backward. She paced as she waited for her brother to answer.
“Hey,” she said, voice taut as she turned on the speakerphone. “Does this username sound familiar to you?” She gave the name, and a beat of silence followed.
“I think…” Ash said, his voice loud enough for all of us to hear. “I think that’s Dad’s old email, isn’t it?”
Skye went still. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “That’s what I thought.”
Another pause. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She said it too quickly.
“What’s going on, Skye?”
Skye glanced at me, worried. “I’ll tell you later.”
“I’m coming over,” Ash said with finality.
“No. Don’t. It’s fine—”
“I’ll see you soon.” The line went dead.
Her mouth thinned as she put her phone away.
“That email is associated with your father?” It was August who spoke, breaking the silence.
Skye looked over at him, blinking as if she’d forgotten he was there. “I think so.”
August and I shared a glance. Skye all but collapsed back down onto the chair, stunned or exhausted—I couldn’t tell which.
“What does this mean?” she asked cautiously, like she didn’t want the answer.
God, I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and assure her that everything would be all right. But I couldn’t. Skye wasn’t mine anymore, no matter how much it had felt like it last night.
Neither of us had said a word about our kiss. But it was there, hanging between us like a spark in a room full of dry kindling.
All morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of her lips. The way her fingers had curled into my hair. The soft sound she’d made as she kissed me like she had never stopped wanting to.
Maybe it had been desperation.