I don’t have a word for it. Intense doesn’t cover it. It was like standing in the center of a storm and realizing the storm was holding you up.
I shift carefully, trying not to wake him. He grumbles low in his throat and tightens his arm around me, pulling me back against his chest.
“Stay,” he mumbles, still half-asleep.
My heart squeezes.
I want to stay. I want to stay in this bed, in this room, in this suspended reality forever.
But my brain is waking up. The lawyer brain. The part of me that deals in facts and evidence.
We’re running blind, and I don’t like it. I’ve got that itch. Something is trying to tell me we’re missing an important detail. It’s right there, almost, just out of reach.
I close my eyes, trying to force the thoughts away, trying to sink back into the warmth of him, but a nagging thought from two days ago scratches at the back of my mind.
Echo Logistics.
When I was scrolling through the Vanguard files in my office—before the break-in, before the chaos—I saw something. Not the monthly retainer.
There was a sub-folder. Vendor Contracts: 2024.
I didn’t open it because I was looking for bribery payments. But Echo Logistics was in the index.
If I can see that contract … If I can see who signed it …
I look at the desk.
Diego’s Toughbook is there. Closed. Locked down with military-grade encryption I can’t crack.
But the hotel has a Business Center.
I saw the sign in the elevator. 2nd Floor. 24 Hours.
I look at Diego. He’s out deep. The first real sleep he’s had in days.
If I wake him, he’ll say no. He’ll give me the lecture about digital footprints and signal flares. He’ll lock me back in the tower.
But I’m not Rapunzel, and I’m not just the mission.
I need to bring something to the table. I need to prove that I can fight this war with him.
I slide out from under his arm. Inch by inch.
He shifts, his hand searching the empty space where I was. I freeze.
He settles. His breathing deepens again.
I slip out of bed. Grab the sweatpants and T-shirt from the floor. I dress quickly, silently. I grab the room key card from the nightstand.
I pause at the door, looking back at him.
Just ten minutes, I promise. I’ll go down and log into my cloud backup. I’ll check the file and come right back.
He won’t even know I was gone.
I open the door and slip into the hallway.
The Business Center is empty.
