“Unknown.” Hellhound’s jaw worked. “He’ll go to ground. Regroup. But he’s exposed now.”
“Exposed how?”
Havoc turned the laptop toward me. “I’ve been sending data to Maeve Durham for weeks.”
The world tilted sideways.
I stared at him. At the name on the screen. At files labeled with her byline.
“Maeve Durham?”
“Investigative journalist.” Havoc didn’t notice my reaction, focused on pulling up files. “She’s been building a case against Oblivion since she helped another escaped operative, Ronan, break free. He connected us. Her first articles cut deep into Dresner’s pride and credibility.”
The pieces started falling into place.
Ronan. Reaper. The Prima generation operative who’d broken conditioning first. Who’d found his journalist and escaped Dresner’s reach.
“Ronan was known as Reaper before breaking conditioning,” Havoc added, fingers moving. “His woman helped expose the first fragments of Oblivion’s operations. We’ve been coordinating ever since.”
My windpipe constricted.
“Maeve Durham is my sister.”
Havoc’s typing stopped. His head snapped up.
Hellhound went completely motionless.
Quiet crashed down.
Havoc’s expression shifted to shock. Hellhound’s usual tactical calm broke for a heartbeat.
“Your... sister?” Havoc repeated slowly. Like he needed to hear it again to believe it.
“The journalist who exposed Reaper’s conditioning?”
“Yeah.” My windpipe was closing. “Foster care. We entered together after our parents died. She became an investigative journalist. The kind who doesn’t let go.”
The kind who’d search for her brother for six months after the world declared him dead.
The kind who’d build a case against the organization that stole him.
“She already published a post on the dark Web that gained major traction in the main media.” Havoc’s tone wassubdued. “Unveiled Oblivion’s existence. The conditioning. The operatives. The whole operation.”
My chest squeezed. “When?”
“Months ago. It went viral. Governments launched investigations. Interpol got involved.” Havoc pulled up a new file, headlines, articles, Maeve’s name repeated across dozens of outlets. “She burned Oblivion’s secrecy to the ground.”
I stared at the screen. At my sister’s work. At proof she’d never stopped fighting.
“But she couldn’t name Dresner. No hard evidence tying him personally to Oblivion or CuraNova. Nothing that would hold up legally.”
“Until now.” Havoc’s fingers resumed their dance. “The data I sent her from the Geneva infiltration, schematics, conditioning protocols, financial records, Dresner’s kill orders with his signature, even the proof of your chip when you get it out, it’s all there. Everything she needs.”
“Maeve has the ammunition to shatter CuraNova’s legitimate facade,” Havoc continued. “To put Dresner’s name out there as the man behind it all. The architect of Oblivion.”
“The pharmaceutical company cover is done. Once she publishes, Dresner will be exposed. No more operating from Geneva or anywhere else. No more legitimate business front.”
The implications sank in.
