Bás frowned. “And?”
Jonas pulled up the file. Architectural drawings, land deeds, digital scans of correspondence. The estate was old, sprawling, hidden in plain sight. Its legal ownership was a tangle of trusts and foundations, all of them funnelling back to one name.
Clara’s father.
Jonas’s pulse spiked. He enlarged the image, dragging the cursor over a plan of the grounds. The main house was flanked by outbuildings, old stables converted into storage, one wing of the estate sealed off decades ago. “This is it. This is where the money’s bleeding out. He’s been hiding it through Clara’s family holdings. And it’s not just financial. There are blueprints here, modified security grids. Reinforced basements.”
Bás leaned closer, his jaw hardening as the details lit the screen. “Not just an estate,” he said slowly. “A staging ground.”
“Exactly.” Jonas’s voice sharpened, breath quickening with the rush of discovery. “He’s building something here. A base. Maybe storage, maybe trafficking routes. Whatever it is, it ties Oliver directly to Clara’s father.”
Bás sat back, rubbing a hand down his face. “Christ.”
Jonas’s mind was already racing ahead, connecting threads like lightning. “This explains why Oliver’s so confident. Why he’s pushing Clara. Her family isn’t just collateral; they’re part of the architecture. He doesn’t just want her loyalty; he wants legitimacy. Access.”
“And her father’s in on it,” Bás said grimly.
The words hung in the air like a bell tolling.
Jonas stared at the screen, bile creeping up his throat. He thought of Clara’s quiet rebellion, the way she’d smiled bravely and held her chin high. The guilt that shadowed her whenshe talked about her parents. All of it clicked into place with sickening clarity.
“Fuck,” Jonas whispered.
Bás’s eyes burned. “This is it, Watchdog. The thread we’ve been waiting for.” He straightened, his voice fierce. “You found it.”
Jonas leaned back, the adrenaline coursing like electricity. For once, the chaos in his head didn’t feel like drowning; it felt like purpose.
Together, side by side in the dim glow of screens, they sat staring at the revelation until it no longer felt like data, but a promise.
A way forward.
And maybe, finally, a way to end it.
Chapter 33
The lightsin the corridor were dimmed, the bunker still caught in the hush of early morning. Clara hadn’t slept well, the blankets tangling around her legs as her mind whirled. When the clock kicked over to five am, she gave up on sleep entirely. Tea didn’t appeal, food even less. What she wanted, what she needed, was Jonas.
Her bare feet padded across the cool floor as she pulled on a jumper and slipped out into the hall. The hum of machinery below told her where he’d be. Always the tech room. Always chasing threads no one else could see.
She pushed the door open quietly, and there he was. Jonas in his element, shoulders broad and rigid, eyes lit by the glow of screens. His hands moved across the keyboard in a rhythm almost musical. Bás sat beside him, looming in the shadows, eyes intent on the data streaming across the monitors. They looked like men standing at the edge of something vast.
Jonas turned as if he felt her before he heard her. His expression softened, the kind of soft she knew no one else saw and it was like a gut punch. No man had ever looked at her like he did. To think a month ago she didn’t know him, andnow she couldn’t imagine her life without him. He swivelled the chair slightly and held out a hand. She crossed the room, heart thudding, and when she slipped her fingers into his, he tugged her gently until she was perched on his lap.
The gesture startled her, not just the intimacy of it, but the ease. A public claim, even with Bás there. It sent a thrill through her chest.
“Morning,” she murmured, suddenly shy.
Instead of answering, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her hard. His mouth was warm, insistent, his breath mingling with hers. She clutched at his shoulders, dizzy with the suddenness of it, the sheer rightness that made her toes curl in her socks.
Bás made a low noise, somewhere between a cough and a sigh. “I’ll go gather the others,” he said dryly, standing. “No fucking on the desk, please. This equipment cost a fortune.”
Clara flushed hot as Jonas released her, his thumb stroking along her jaw before he let her settle against his chest. Contentment curled through her, warm and liquid as she tucked her legs up and burrowed into him.
“Why do you need the others?” she asked, heart still pounding, lips tingling from his kiss.
Jonas’s expression shifted, the warmth still there but tempered with gravity. He tapped a key, bringing up a set of documents and blueprints that glowed ominously on the screens. “Because I found something. About Oliver. About your father.” His voice was gentle, careful, as if he were holding glass that might shatter.
Her breath caught. “My father?”
