Me: You will figure this out.
Mr. Reid: Have a good day, Ms. Rhodes.
Micah tapped his marker against the table, sharp enough to cut through my thoughts. “You okay?”
I didn’t look up. “I didn’t sleep well.”
Not a lie. Not the truth either.
“Let’s go over this again,” he said. “Mr. Cross wants an update.”
We walked through the numbers more slowly this time, letting the repetition do its work. Dates. Access points. Withdrawals spaced carefully enough to disappear into routine unless you already knew where to look.
I took notes as Micah adjusted the code we’d been building, refining it until it stopped being a safeguard and started becoming something else entirely.
Once the trio approved it, Mr. Hale would handle the upload. A mirrored environment, one that was clean and isolated. It was designed to behave exactly like our real system, quietly pulling the actual one offline, protecting it. We couldn’t keep it offline for long, but we hoped whoever was doing this would make a move.
It wasn’t a solution, and it wouldn’t fix what had already been done, but it was a trap. And if it worked, if they reached for the system the way we suspected they would, it might be enough to stop the bleeding before it became fatal.
The conference room door opened, pulling us both from the numbers.
Sebastian Reid stepped inside as if he’d been there the entire time and we’d only just notice. Not that he’d ever go unnoticed. Dressed in a black tailored suit and dark blue shirt, his steel grey eyes sought me out.
“Any progress?” he asked, walking around behind us.
Micah straightened. While he’d crossed paths with Hale, he had rarely worked with the other two before. “Mirror environment is ready, pending approval. As long as whoever is doing it isn’t online when we make the switch, no one should notice.”
Reid nodded as he moved closer, scanning the figures, the code that the average person would just see as gibberish. His expression shifted, telling the moment everything clicked into place.
“How long?”
“On an empty network? A matter of minutes,” Micah said. “If the pattern of withdrawals holds true, we should have what we need in the next week. We should be able to do it locally without involving any of our outside systems.”
Reid pursed his lips, processing then his focus shifted to Micah. “You should get back to your floor before people start wondering why you’ve been gone so long.”
Micah didn’t argue. He gathered his tablet, shot me a look, then slipped out, the door closing quietly behind him.
The room felt smaller without him. Or maybe it was just the sudden nearness of Mr. Reid that made the space contract. The scent of cedar lingered in the air, unmistakable now that it didn’t have anywhere else to go. Wood and leather, clean and restrained, unmistakably him.
He turned toward me, bracing his hands on the table, leaning in just enough to make the distance disappear.
“Ms. Rhodes.”
I met his eyes and gulped. “Yes, Sir.”
Something sharpened in his gaze, the intensity tightening as his Adam’s apple shifted with a slow swallow of his own.
“My office.”
He turned and left without waiting.
I scooped up the papers strewn across the table, my laptop tucked under my arm, and followed. My pulse was already racing when I reached him, standing in the doorway of his office, holding it open with quiet expectation.
I stepped past him, the scent of food cutting through the sterile air immediately. My stomach betrayed me with a low growl, and I could have sworn the corner of his mouth curved in response.
“Have you eaten today?”
I started to shrug, but the lift of his brow stopped me cold. “A protein bar.”
