“Again?” She asked, her voice shaky with disbelief. She tried to keep her worry from bleeding through, but her throat closed around the word. “How?”
“They were close this time. Real close.” David reached to touch the server housing with two fingers, and Lena’s breath caught as she watched. The moment his skin met metal, his breathing shifted—slower, focused, like a diver going under.
She’d seen it before, that moment when the digital world bent toward him like a beckoning tide, pulling him somewhereshe couldn’t follow. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once, watching him slip away into that other realm where she couldn’t follow.
The blue light from the screens reflected off his glasses, hiding his eyes from her. She wanted to reach out, to grasp his shoulder, to anchor him to the physical world—but she didn’t want to break his concentration.
He flinched back a second later, breaking the connection. “They spoofed a local MAC address. Someone on-site is either smart enough to fake access credentials… or they’re inside already.”
Her stomach pitched, and she tasted bile at the back of her throat. The implications crashed over her like a wave, just as strong as before. Someone here. Someone she probably smiled at in the hallway. Someone she might trust. An insider. “Can you tell what they were after?”
The intensity of his gaze—sharp and electric—made her pulse jump. David could be so absent sometimes, lost in his technological world, but when he focused on her like this—really looked at her—it was like standing in a spotlight.
“The watermaker controller. The new module I installed three days ago.” He rose slowly, as if trying to keep a lid on the storm forming behind his glasses, his hands trembling. “They didn’t crack it. But they tried. And that means they’re escalating.”
Escalating. The word sent ice down her spine even as her skin warmed now that she’d shifted away from the air-conditioning vent.
“That system is mission critical, as you know.” Lena lifted her fingers to her temples, rubbing at the pulse throbbing there with increasing insistence. The beginnings of a headache—stress or dehydration, or both. The tropical heat was climbing into the unbearable range, tripling guest requests, and a pipe burst inVilla Eleven that morning, requiring her to move a family of five to a smaller suite while promising them upgrades and comped treatments at the spa. Mrs. Henderson had not been pleased.
“If the water goes down during the day…”
“Then we’re screwed.” He held her gaze a beat too long. Something passed between them—an understanding, maybe, or a shared dread. The weight of it settled on her shoulders.
He straightened, shifting back into strategy mode. “We need to question the systems staff.”
Lena’s lungs constricted. She hated the idea of interrogating people she worked with, people who depended on their jobs here just like her. The thought of looking into their eyes, searching for deception, had nausea churning in her stomach.
The knock came sharp and fast, three urgent raps that made Lena jump and her heart pound. She opened the door to see Lisa waiting in the hallway, her curls in a high-frizz halo that spoke to the humidity outside, cheeks flushed pink with exertion, anxiety, or both.
“David, Lena, you guys need to come out back. Now.” Lisa’s voice pitched higher than normal, words tumbling over each other. “Walter’s trying to calm things down, but a few of the maintenance guys are ranting. They say someone’s messing with the generator system. Again.”
Lena stiffened, every muscle in her body going taut. The dread that had been an icy knot in her gut spread outward, creeping through her limbs. “It has to be connected.”
David’s tablet pinged—a sharp, artificial sound that seemed too loud in the narrow hallway. He checked it, his face illuminated by the blue glow, and cursed under his breath with a vehemence she rarely heard from him.
“Yup. Same signature, same time stamp. Someone’s triggering faults—enough to rush the electrical team to that side of the resort.” His voice took on that clipped, analytical tone heused when he was angry but trying to control it. “Every time we scatter the staff, access points go vulnerable.”
Lisa glanced between them with wide eyes, her usual composure cracking, her hands shaking on her radio. “You don’t think one of us could be?—”
“We don’t know yet. Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Lena’s words came out sharper than she had intended, but she couldn’t afford softness right now. Couldn’t afford to show doubt. Not to Lisa. Not to anyone. She forced herself to take a breath, to strengthen her voice. “But we’re going to find out.”
The short walk outside took an eternity. Each step seemed weighted with dread. Lena’s sensible work flats snicked over the utilitarian tile, then went silent on the outdoor pavers. The transition from air conditioning to tropical heat was like walking into a wall—thick, humid air that pressed against her skin and made her lungs work harder to find oxygen.
Sweat prickled at her hairline, dampening the wisps of hair that escaped her ponytail. The late afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, making everything shimmer with heat. Even the palm fronds seemed to droop, exhausted.
Resort staff clustered near the cafeteria, most still in uniform from the first shift—polo shirts untucked, name tags askew, faces shining with perspiration and agitation. Several were mid-argument, their voices rising and falling in an angry rhythm that quickened her pulse.
Miguel from maintenance had grease smears on both forearms, and he was facing off against Walter with his shoulders squared and his jaw set. The normally easygoing Miguel looked ready to throw a punch. “We work hard keeping this place running, and now you think one of us is a traitor?” He jabbed a finger toward Walter’s chest without quite touching him.
“No one said that,” Walter spread his arms wide in pacification, his gold chain glinting in the setting sun. His voice stayed calm, measured—the voice of someone who’d talked down plenty of angry drunks over the years. “We don’t yet know who is behind this, but somebody’s taking risks. Dangerous risks. We want answers like you do.”
Lena swallowed hard, mouth dry. She hated confrontations like this, hated the way her heart raced and her palms went slick with nervous sweat. But she stepped forward, drawing on every ounce of confidence developed during her years managing troublesome guests and impossible situations. “And we’ll find them. But not by turning on each other.”
Her voice came out steadier than she felt, thank god.
“The hell we will.” Another staffer, Jorge, crossed his arms over his barrel chest. Hydraulic fluid streaked his uniform, and there was a sharp, restless edge in his eyes. “Somebody’s already inside the system and fooling your firewalls. It has to be an insider.”
David didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “We’ve traced the intrusion to a physical terminal. That suggests access, proximity—not job title. It simply means whoever did this understands our weak points.”
