She moves freely through mansion. Four-guard detail but patterns are predictable. She spent over an hour in kitchen with Hiro this morning. Cooking. Teaching him. She's comfortable here. Trusts everyone. No combat training visible. She doesn't see threats.
Reo cleared his throat again, which told me there was more.
“Show me.”
He swiped to the next message.
Do I tell them to kill her or take her? I need instructions soon. They say the window may be closing.
The words hit me like physical blows.
I sneered and repeated the words back. “DoItellthem.Not ‘should I kill her.’ Not ‘should I take her.’ Do I tellthem.”
“That points to at least three. The person who sent the message and two more people, but I still think it is four.”
"That’s a good guess. Too much coordination for three." My mind was racing, fitting pieces together. "Someone's organizing them. Giving orders. Directing multiple people, but it’s not the person who sent the message."
"You don’t think so?”
“No.” I directed my gaze back to the message. “The phrasing was strange. Not professional. Not the cold, calculated language of a trained operative. It was uncertain. Almost. . .seeking approval.”
Do I tell them to kill her or take her?
Like a child asking permission. Like somebody young, inexperienced, unsure of their authority. A person who needed direction from the Fox before they could direct others. Someone who'd been groomed for this their entire life but still wasn't quite confident enough to make the call themselves.
My stomach turned.
Hina. . .if this is you. . .the pain that you will experience. . .the screams. . .
Reo said nothing, but his silence was answer enough.
We were probably both thinking the same thing.
Hina.
Four years old when she came to me. Raised in my household. Educated. Protected. Loved. And possibly groomed by my father the entire time.
The message sat on the screen, damning, intimate, and terrifying all at once. The spy had been close enough to know mynew nickname for Nyomi. Close enough to watch her cook with Hiro. Close enough to photograph her when she felt safe.
And the guards wouldn’t think to get rid of the person because they were part of myfamily.
"There's one more message." Reo swiped to the final one.
We’re not sure if you're receiving these messages. They need confirmation that you're getting our reports. Please respond.
The desperation in those words was almost palpable.
The spies were starting to panic.
Starting to realize something was wrong.
"They don't know we're intercepting." I lifted my view to him. "They think the messages are going through, but they're not getting responses."
"Exactly." His expression was grim. "Which gives us a window."
"How long?"
"Twenty-four hours." Reo's jaw clenched. "Maybe less. When they don't get confirmation, when they realize the Fox isn't responding to any of their reports. . ."
