Brennan drains the last of his whiskey and puts the glass down. “All right. We’ll need to coordinate the fake intel today and push it out tomorrow.”
I take a sip from my glass. “I’ll handle the intel itself. Each piece will be tailored specifically to each department. I’ll loop it into existing operations and make it subtle enough that it won’t draw attention.”
Cormac’s eyes narrow. “We’ll need eyes on the ground, tracking if any of the fake intel leads to movement from outside players. If someone takes the bait, we’ll know fast.”
Kieran nods.
“I’ll get our most loyal guys on it. No one who’s been inside our meeting rooms in the last six months.”
Brennan raises an eyebrow.
“You have loyal guys who haven’t been inside those meetings?”
“Two or three quiet ones. I trust them to watch and report, but more importantly, not to ask questions.”
As the plan starts to take shape, hope flickers inside me for the first time in weeks. It’s small, but it’s enough.
“If we do this right, we’ll have our mole exposed within days.”
And if we don’t, we’re not just looking at the end of our empire.
We’re looking at all-out war.
After the meeting,I drive home with my hands clenched tight on the wheel. My mind is already running simulations, planning which departments will get which fake drops and calculating potential consequences of each fabricated lie.
I’ve narrowed my focus to warehouse logistics, shipping schedules, and the accounts team. They’re isolated enough to keep the plan contained but important enough that I imagine the mole won’t be able to resist taking the bait.
I’ll make sure to code each leak differently. Maybe I could buy a storage facility set to receive a fake weapons shipment as well as a fake cash transfer. I could even set up a meeting between me and a supposed foreign contact. It would be enough to warrant the mole’s attention, but not too much to put real assets at risk. And if any of it gets out? We’ll know exactly who to pin it on.
My mind is so full that I barely register pulling into the garage at the house and killing the engine. It’s almost midnight, but the lights are still on downstairs as I enter through the kitchen, which means Ciara must still be up.
The thought of hearing her voice melts some of the tension from my body.
I don’t know how I ever felt fulfilled coming home to an empty house and a bottle of whiskey. Right now, Ciara is all I need.
The soft sound of her laughter comes from the TV room, so I creep to the door and press my ear against it to soak up the sound. It seems she’s alone too, which pleases me more than it should.
When Ciara laughs again, I push open the door and my blood heats when she glances over her shoulder at me. There’s color in her cheeks and a spark in her eyes that I haven’t seen in days.
It seems having Mila visit did her some good.
She smiles. “Hey. You’re back.”
“And you’re still up.” I lean over the back of the couch and press a kiss to her temple.
“I wanted to wait up for you.”
“I’m glad you did.” I perch on the back of the couch and stroke my thumb over her cheek.
She leans into my touch, her green eyes scanning my face in that way she does when she’s trying to figure out what’s on my mind.
I force myself to smile, hoping she won’t ask too many questions. “Did you have a good evening?”
Ciara looks away as she nods. “Yeah, Mila left an hour ago.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, you know… ordered takeout and watched a chick flick.” She keeps her eyes averted.
