Chapter 1
Mira
Islammed my apartment door shut behind me and leaned against it, my pulse hammering in my chest. It wasn’t even four yet. I should’ve been in my cubicle, pretending everything was fine. Instead, my supervisor, Stan Mercer, had finally told me to go home after an hour-long lecture about company protocol. If I heard either word again in this lifetime, I might actually scream.
The only thing he hadn’t done was tell me to clear out my desk. But I knew that would come Monday morning, right after my nine a.m. meeting with Human Resources about “insubordination.” Stan had handed me a printout of the email I’d yet to receive on my way out the door.
Sliding down the door, I dropped my bag and pulled my knees to my chest, staring into the living room of my one-bedroom apartment. Normally tidy, with nothing ever out of place. Now, it was chaos. Papers littered the coffee table, my laptop still open, news articles frozen on the screen. I’d verified my information too many times to count. There was no way I was wrong.
It didn’t matter.
Monday morning, HR would fire me. My chest tightened. I could already hear it:Thank you for your service, please clear your desk. Security will escort you out. Don’t bother looking for another job as an analyst ever again. Let’s make that anything working with computers. You’re blacklisted. Maybe try your hand at retail or waitressing. I hear the corner diner is hiring.
A knock sounded at the door, jolting me out of my spiral. I froze.
Another knock.
“Mira? It’s me.” Micah’s voice came through the door. “Open up.”
I glanced at my watch. How had I lost an entire hour? Sighing, I pulled myself to my feet, and unlatched the deadbolt.
He stepped inside with a brown paper sack from my favorite Thai place down the street and gave me one long look.
“Rough day,” he said.
Not a question.
Of course he’d heard, even though he’d been off this afternoon. There wasn’t much that happened on the analyst floor without Micah Carver knowing. He was the type everyone liked and talked to. A senior analyst with his own team I’d give anything to be on. Talk about someone who could have you spilling your secrets in an hour whether you knew what you were doing or not.
“You could say that,” I walked across the room, leaving him in the hall while I dropped onto the couch, pulling my cardigan tighter around me.
He set the bag on the coffee table, grabbed two ciders from the fridge, handed me one and slid into the chair across from me. “When I left, I specifically told you to be careful. What did Stan say?”
My laugh surprised me as I pulled my legs underneath me on the couch, tucking into myself. “Told me not to worry about it. Something about it being above my pay grade.”
Micah nearly choked on his drink. “He did what?”
No one liked Stan, but he supervised the analysts. In our world it wasn’t about personalities. It was about skills though, I wasn’t sure what his were. We weren’t there for Stan; we were there because Sentinel Tech was one of the fastest-growing cyber-security firms in the United States. This last year, they had frequently been featured in Forbes and Wired for their cutting-edge threat detection.
“I heard the meeting got moved up,” Micah said, leaning forward.
I shoved both hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. “That’s why I did what I did.” If I hadn’t overheard Stan talking to Mr. Reid’s temporary assistant, I wasn’t sure I would have known. When he asked me for some numbers I had worked on for the project, it had confirmed the information I had. The meeting wasn’t supposed to be until next week but for some reason they were in a rush and it just sent off red flags all over the place. At least for me it did.
Micah’s eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what I was capable of. “Tell me you didn’t?—”
“Shut down the entire executive floor?” I let out a humorless laugh, shoulders lifting in a helpless shrug. “Yeah. I did.”
The words hung heavy between us. Others believed I was simply an analyst. Numbers, patterns, projections—that was the box they put me in. But I’d always had a knack for tearing systems apart and stitching them back together, and in that moment, I hadn’t cared about the consequences.
Micah blew out a sharp breath. “Jesus, Mira.”
“It stopped the meeting,” I shot back. “Bought me the thirty seconds I needed. Long enough to tell Reid to check his damnemail.” In my defense I’d sent it half an hour before I’d done what I had but it hadn’t been opened yet. He’d been getting ready for his meeting.
“And?” Micah pressed, leaning forward now, his expression equal parts dread and curiosity. “What happened when he did?”
I didn’t answer right away but let the scene that had been replaying in my head since the moment I had committed career suicide take over.
Mr. Reid’s temp assistant barely registered my presence when the lights flickered. Then the entire floor went dark. For a moment it was silent before everyone went into offensive mode and the security lights bleeped on. I took a moment to walk past the desk to the main conference room just in time to see the power trio step out of the room into the dark hallway.
