He’d laced it with authentic code and wrapped it in the kind of sloppy security that came from years of patchwork upgrades and overworked IT teams. To a decent hacker, it would look like opportunity—a quiet back door into water management. Maximum disruption. Minimal trace.
Come on,he thought, not sending it through Nick’s channel but keeping it private, his own silent mantra.Take the bait. Take the damn bait.
Incoming.Zach’s taut voice cut through the mental link, a drawn bow.
Footsteps. Slow. Steady. Deliberate.
David’s entire body locked down in complete stillness. Even his breathing altered, becoming shallower, quieter, the automatic response of a predator lying in wait.
He didn’t move. Not even a fingertip. He watched from the lip of the shed’s shadow, his eyes adjusting to track movement through the undergrowth.
A figure broke from the overgrowth—hoodie despite the heat, worn canvas work boots, posture half-scared, half-focused. No one from their team. Local, maybe, but the wrong kind of local. The movements were dodgy—too furtive, too purposeful. This wasn’t someone who belonged here, wasn’t someone comfortable with the resort’s rhythms and patterns.
He had the wrong type of calm—nervous, hungry, brittle. The stress that came from recognizing you did something dangerous, something that could land you in a cell or worse, but doing it anyway. Money did that. Desperation did that. Fear did that.
Something that might have been pity if he’d had the luxury to sympathize with people trying to destroy their home flickered and died.
The man crouched at the water control panel with the careful movements of someone following instructions, told what to do but didn’t understand why. He fished out a cable from his pocket, the motion clumsy, rushed, and plugged in a small drive with shaking hands.
David’s tablet pulsed. Data streamed across it in flowing ribbons of light only he could read—not with his eyes but with that other sense, that awareness of information as a living thing. The foreign device announced itself to the network, requested access, and began its pre-programmed routine.
Bingo. Got him.
The satisfaction that rolled through him was bright and clean as a knife’s edge. After weeks of chasing ghosts and second-guessing every minor system hiccup, they had something tangible. Someone real.
A thread to pull.
Through the network, the drive’s programming pressed against his consciousness like fingers—crude, obvious, destructive. It wasn’t elegant. Its creator knew enough to be dangerous but lacked artistry, lacked subtlety. This was not from the same person who hacked into their systems. An underling? The commands were brute-force, designed to corrupt water management protocols and trigger system failures that would take days to unravel.
Days the resort didn’t have— Days that would mean ruined vacations, angry guests, negative reviews, reputation damage that would take months to repair.
Not anymore.
Zach descended like fog—silent, fast, devastating. In three perfect seconds, he had the man pinned and cuffed, without agrunt or shout. Violence in the shape of choreography, brutal and beautiful in its efficiency. David stifled a laugh—barely—the manic edge of relief trying to bubble up as pressure released its grip on him.
One moment the saboteur had been alone, working in the dark, confident in his solitude. The next, he was face-down in the dirt with two hundred and twenty-five pounds of highly trained muscle holding him there while zip-ties secured his wrists behind his back with a sound like ripping fabric.
Zach yanked the man upright with casual strength, and his captive got a good, hard look at who had tackled him. David saw the exact moment reality struck: Zach, slick-black in full ops gear, imposing against the dark, with blade hilts glinting at his ribs and the flat-eyed calm of someone at peace with killing. Not someone who wanted to kill, but someone for whom it was an option on the table, always considered, available if circumstances required it.
The guy’s face went sheet white—mouth working, no sound. His eyes were too wide, whites showing all around like a spooked horse. Whatever he’d been told about this job, whatever assurances received about easy money and minimal risk, they’d evaporated like morning dew under the full weight of Zach’s attention.
David allowed himself satisfaction, cold and clean. They’d flushed one out. Finally had leverage, had answers within reach, had the first domino ready to topple.
He fired off a quick text—Zach had backup stationed off the path, aware something was up. Wouldn’t take long. His fingers flew with practiced efficiency, sending encrypted coordinates and a simple confirmation code. The response came back in seconds: a thumbs-up emoji that was absurdly casual given the circumstances.
Sure enough, the whir of gravel heralded the SUV’s arrival, tires whispering to a halt on a nearby track. Two men leapt out, weapons ready, scanning as they fanned around with the fluid coordination of seasoned professionals. They moved like water, covering angles and potential threats with no words but a few hand signals.
Zach hauled the prisoner toward the vehicle, one hand fisted in the man’s hoodie, the other poised to react if the saboteur tried anything stupid. The man stumbled, falling against the SUV’s side panel with a pained thump.
Without preamble, Zach shoved him inside and sat beside him, positioning himself between the prisoner and the door with the casual authority of someone who knew how to prevent escape attempts before they started.
“Walker, sweep the perimeter,” Zach’s voice was lethal, pitched to reach his team but no further. Every word clipped, precise, leaving no room for interpretation or delay. “I want eyes in every ditch. If this idiot’s not alone, you’ll find his tail.”
“Copy that.” Walker melted into the trees with his partner, their footsteps melting into the jungle’s ambient noise.
Zach’s mental parting:See you back at Security.The SUV’s brake lights blinked once like red eyes in the darkness before the vehicle rounded the curve and disappeared into the trees. The engine’s rumble faded, displaced by frogs and insects reclaiming their territory, the jungle closing over the interruption like water over a stone.
The subtle hum of pressure eased as Nick’s connection redistributed after Zach moved out of range of telepathic communication, a sensation like fingers unclenching.
