Shorty hadn’t even acknowledged Matt’s and Anton’s arrival, already diving deeper. Until she encountered another encryption protocol that made her curse under her breath.
“This looks like quantum-resistant lattice-based cryptography.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “I’ve never seen this used in regular operations. They’ve partitioned the network. I need to find another entry point.”
She tried several approaches, each more creative than the last, but the system held firm. Frustration tightened her features.
Nina leaned forward hesitantly. “Try a Kerberos TGT override with the domain admin credentials you’ve given yourself. Maybe there’s a maintenance service account with unrestricted access for emergency system recovery,” she suggested.
Shorty gave Nina an appraising look before implementing the suggestion. She overcame the barrier and opened another layer of the database.
“Good call,” Shorty acknowledged. “How did you know that?”
Nina shrugged. “I keep my eyes open.”
The brief moment of cooperation eased the tension in the room slightly.
Shorty resumed the magic she was doing, and soon she was navigating through the Paraskia Syndicate’s extensive personnel files. A familiar name flashed across the screen as she sorted through classified records—Nina Valentini.
Matt, who had progressively come closer, suddenly leaned over, and his attention snapped to the screen. “Valentini.”
This close, his sudden interest was palpable.
Nina moved with unusual haste, reaching past Shorty to scroll past the file. “That’s not what we’re here for,” she said, voice tight while staring down Matt as if he was nothing more than an annoying mosquito on the wall.
Matt’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing and backed off. Whatever history existed between them crackled in the air like static electricity. So Matt knew Nina’s last name before we all became Zotovs? What the fuck?
Shorty didn’t let the moment deter her concentration. Her technical abilities were impressive and obvious—even to someone with my limited experience. She wasn’t just good—she was exceptional.
“Got it,” she announced, pulling up Grey’s personnel file. “Heavily modified. Recently, too—timestamps show modifications even within the past week.”
She navigated past a couple of number-named files. “Bingo,” she whispered, as a hidden directory suddenly became visible. A lot of files appeared. Shorty scrolled until she found one, then opened it. As the documents loaded, her expression hardened.
“If all of these files are operations, he’s been quite busy.”
She opened a couple of them and scrolled through them. “He’s been running parallel operations for years—trafficking, weapons, even experimental drugs.” She scrolled through a file with financial records. “And these aren’t low-level operations. We’re talking millions diverted and funneled through official Paraskia funds.”
My hands clenched involuntarily as I read the figures. These weren’t just unauthorized side projects—they were full-scale criminal enterprises operating right under the Paraskia’s nose. Or worse, with their knowledge.
“The Paraskia knows,” Isabella said as if reading my thoughts. Her voice contained an unmistakable accusation. “Look at these. They know everything. At least those with high-level clearance.”
Matt stepped closer, examining the screen. “If they know, why haven’t they stopped him?”
The question hung in the air, uncomfortable and damning.
I felt oddly hollow at the discovery. The organization I’d dedicated my life to. The organization I believed in. Either I’d been kept in the dark deliberately, or I’d been used as an unwitting pawn. Neither option sat well.
Yes, the methods were questionable. Yes, nothing about the Paraskia Syndicate was above the law. But the organization worked on a strict moral code, nevertheless—at least that’s what they’d indoctrinated into me. But the evidence before me suggested otherwise—either incompetence or complicity. Neither option sat well.
But more troubling was the possibility that they had known about Grey’s operations all along and only acted when he became too volatile to control. How much had they overlooked over the years? How complicit were they in his crimes?
The Paraskia wasn’t some kind of institution built on moral high ground. We’d messed up and manipulated situations. Dirty hands and all. But at least I thought there was some kind of line the Paraskia wouldn’t cross.
“Maybe they couldn’t,” I said, even as doubt crept into my voice. “Or maybe they’re building a case.”
Isabella shot me a skeptical look. “Is that what you need to believe?”
Before I could respond, she reversed out of Grey’s files and opened another one labeled “Operation Legacy.”
“What’s this?” I asked.
