“Unknown,” Mitzy responds. “But the financial data provides clues—power consumption patterns visible in utility payments, data transfer costs, and geographic distribution of expenses. If we can analyze the spending patterns, we might be able to triangulate where they’re operating from.”
“You’re talking about a direct assault on Phoenix’s operational center,” Ghost says, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s calculated those kinds of odds before.
“Understanding their financial network is the first step,” Eliza says quietly. “The money trail could lead us to Phoenix’s physical location. That’s how we permanently stop it. We need to destroy its source code.”
The room falls quiet except for the humming of computers. Around us, technical specialists continue their work, but the conversation has shifted into planning territory that goes far beyond routine intelligence analysis.
We’re talking about a war against an enemy that’s spent years preparing for exactly this confrontation.
And somehow, the linguistics professor who was supposed to be a simple protection detail has become our best weapon for fighting it.
Ghost catches my eye, and I see the question there—can she handle what comes next? Can any of us?
The answer sits in Eliza’s determined expression as she studies the Phoenix network data, looking for weaknesses that might not exist.
We’re about to find out.
TWENTY-FOUR
Eliza
VIGIL
The conversation flows around me—financialnetworks, tracking algorithms, strategic options—but my attention keeps drifting to Cooper. He stands beside Ghost—Mason—arms crossed, jaw set in that familiar stubborn line that means he’s pushing through something he doesn’t want to admit, but I see what the others miss.
The slight tremor in his left hand. The way he shifts his weight every few minutes, favoring his uninjured side. How his knuckles have gone white where he grips the back of the chair.
“The utility payments alone show a pattern,” Mitzy continues, pointing to data flowing across multiple screens. “If we can correlate the power consumption spikes with?—”
Cooper sways slightly, catching himself against the chair. The movement is subtle, barely noticeable, but it sends alarm bells racing through my system.
“—geographic distribution of server farms,” Mitzy finishes, but her words fade into background noise.
I stand before I realize I’m moving, crossing the room to where Cooper tries to maintain his stoic operator facade. Upclose, the pallor is more obvious. Sweat beads at his temples despite the cool air conditioning.
“Hey,” I say softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Let’s get you back to bed. You look like you could use some rest.”
His green eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I expect him to refuse. To insist he’s fine, that operators don’t need rest, that the mission comes first. It’s what he’d probably tell his team.
Instead, he nods. “Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea.”
The admission surprises everyone in the room, including me. Halo—Martinez—raises an eyebrow. Fuse—Jackson—looks like he wants to make a joke but thinks better of it.
The nicknames, callsigns, whatever they call them—I’m not sure where I fit in that? Do I call them by the names Cooper uses, or by their given names? I don’t know, and I’m feeling my way around like a blind person.
Ghost watches with the calculating expression of a leader reassessing his team’s capabilities.
But Cooper just wraps his good arm around my shoulders, letting me take some of his weight as we head toward the door.
“We’ll continue this later,” Ghost says, understanding passing between him and Cooper that doesn’t require words.
The hallway stretches ahead of us, all warm wood paneling and mountain lodge elegance that still feels surreal after everything we’ve been through. Cooper’s steps are measured, deliberate, but each one costs him.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I murmur as we walk. “I saw you in that tunnel, remember? I know what you’re capable of, but I also know when you’re running on empty.”
His arm tightens around my shoulders. “Forgot you were paying attention to details.”
“Occupational hazard. Linguists notice everything—tone, inflection, body language. You’re speaking fluent exhaustionright now.”
