“Video?” Charley looked up from her tablet.
A frozen frame dominated the screen—clear, sharp, and disturbingly real. Then the video started. They all watched in silence. Joseph narrowed his eyes. That woman was cold-blooded. She didn’t even flinch when the gun fired. Damn. “Who is that?” he asked.
“Elise Serra. Supposedly,” Jewell answered him.
“This isn’t real,” Con began, his tone clipped, deliberate. For once, Joseph was impressed by the computer geek. Con tapped his keyboard. “It looks real. It sounds real. But it’s manufactured. What you’re staring at is a deepfake.”
Leather creaked as Joseph King leaned back, arms folding across his chest. He’d killed with his bare hands and then taught others to do the same. His eyes, sharp and assessing, cut through Con. “Explain it like I’m breaking down a hit to a recruit. No technical garbage. Step by step. How’d they do it?”
Con inclined his head, and Joseph waited for the smartass comment, but Con didn’t display his usual lack of respect. Instead, he answered Joseph’s question. “They fed a system everything they could get their hands on. Specifically, these include pictures, interviews, and surveillance clips. Hours of data. Enough for the machine to learn every nuance of a face. Every blink, every twitch, the way the jaw tightens before a word. Then they lay that onto someone else in an existing video, frame by frame. They polish the seams until the cracks vanish.”
Charley shifted forward, her hands clasped tightly together, the knuckles blanching. Fear wasn’t in her nature. She’d stood beside Smoke through years of blood and shadows, but this invisible threat seemed to unsettle her. Her gaze flicked between the frozen face on the wall and Con. “So, it’s a mask,” she whispered. “But one you can’t peel off.”
“Exactly.” Con didn’t soften the word. “This isn’t a disguise. It’s rewritten reality.”
Smoke’s fingers tapped against the table, the rhythm precise. His jaw flexed, sharp and controlled, and his voice carried a clipped skepticism. “Wait, from the briefings we’ve had, there’s always a tell. Lighting that doesn’t match, eyes that blink wrong, something in the frame if you slow it down. Why can’t we prove this one’s a fake?”
Before Con could open his mouth, Jewell leaned in, her tone calm and steady. “Normally, we can. This one’s different. The person who built it had access to high-resolution source material and the skill to utilize it. They adjusted every frame. They have matched light, matched reflections, and achieved aneven skin tone under shifting shadows. We ran it through our best detectors. Half the data flagged it as authentic. Half flagged it synthetic. Nothing clean enough to stand in a courtroom. Nothing the public would believe over their own eyes.”
Anubis had been silent, arms crossed. He spoke without inflection, a blade cutting through the noise. “So, we can’t prove it technically. That shifts the problem. This isn’t about detection any longer; it’s about strategy. Who gains from weaponizing her? Who benefits from sowing doubt?”
“Zajac,” Jason answered. “So, we go through the back end. Who’s he paying? Follow the money, Con.
“We’re looking there,” Con said. He advanced the video. The figure on the screen shifted naturally and fluidly, and even the blink was perfectly timed. He froze it again, letting the silence linger. “That’s the danger. By the time we pull it apart, the damage is already done. People don’t wait for analysis or proof of a fake. They see it, they believe it, they share it. Every minute it circulates, trust erodes.”
Joseph leaned forward, forearms braced on the table now, a predator’s focus radiating from him. “Truth doesn’t matter. Perception does.” He watched as Charley’s eyes darted instinctively to Smoke. His hand stilled its rhythm long enough to brush over hers, a fleeting reassurance only, but damn it, Joseph approved. She flashed a small smile and then asked the question hanging between them all. “So, what do we do? If we deny it outright, we can’t prove it. If we ignore it, people assume it’s true.”
Jason took off his glasses. “What’s your call, Jewell?”
Jewell’s gaze lifted. “Con and I talked about this at length. We think we should fight this on two fronts. Forensics continues to dig using metadata, provenance, and any other information that can be twisted into evidence. But at the same time, we build the truth. We comb the docs, gather eyewitnesses. We break intoevery shop camera, every doorbell, and gather corroborating footage. We produce facts so solid the public can’t dismiss them. We drown the lie before it drowns her.”
“We can provide her with a new identity if necessary.” Jason sighed and leaned back in his chair. “But that’s a last resort. And we haven’t even begun to reach that line.” Jason leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the screen. He spoke with the finality of a man who’d already made his decision. “And while you do that, I’ll find who made this. Anyone with the skill to strike at Guardian this way won’t stop at one video. They’re already planning the next strike. Con, give me a copy of this video. I know two men who can find things most people can’t.”
The statement settled like a blade across the table, sharp and with an edge.
Con clicked his mouse, and the video went dark. The silence that followed was heavier than gunfire. “Who? We’ve run this through the best systems we have.”
“That’s classified above your pay grade.” Jason met each gaze in turn, his voice hard with resolve. “That’s where we stand. Not with certainty, but with speed and precision. If we don’t move fast, the fake becomes the truth. And that’s a battlefield we cannot afford to fight on. This is an innocent’s life we’re talking about.”
Joseph sighed. “That reporter’s life is over. Even if we disprove the video, with the internet, she won’t be able to show her face for years.”
“I know.” Jason sighed. “And the primary mission?”
“We have a valid operation. Havoc has a solid plan. Rook will stay with Elise, and all three of them will fly out of Serbia after the mission.” Anubis leaned back in his chair. “Jewell, any problems that you can see on your end?”
“Zane?” She looked to her left, and Zane came into the frame.
“I’ve tried to punch holes in it,” he said. “The only problem I can see is with the alternate exfil. Could be dicey.”
“All assassinations are dicey,” Joseph growled. “What’s the risk?”
“Exposure, direction of travel exposed,” Zane answered. “Nothing we wouldn’t accept when we were working.”
Joseph drew a deep breath. They’d accepted far too fucking much when they were working, but he wouldn’t say that.
“We’ve been fluctuating the power, and the security cameras have been blinking randomly and with varying lengths. They’ve had the contractor for the system out twice, but he can’t find anything. Go figure.” Jewell chuckled. “He can do this. He’s got a plan and a reason to get out.”
Joseph’s head snapped up, and he pinned a look at his sister. “What?”
