She stepped forward and lowered herself into the chair slowly. The bruises beneath her shirt pulled across her back and ribs. Every breath reminded her of what had been taken. Every wince, what was still at stake.
Ghost moved to stand behind her, one hand coming to rest on the back of her chair. Not hovering, just there. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back.
Echo slid into the seat across from her, fingers already moving across his own keyboard. The screen flickered as code stacked line by line, the blue light sharpening the angles of his face.
"I've got mirrored backups and secured delivery pipelines," he said, not looking up. "The second this goes live, Hale's gonna try to bury it." His mouth twitched. "We bury him first."
Rachel nodded once. "Then we drop it everywhere."
She set her fingers on the keys and took a breath. Behind her, the team moved quietly, footsteps, the scrape of gear being adjusted, low voices. But it all faded. Just her and the screen.
Arms deals. Shell company transfers. Declassified intel reports, half redacted, the rest traced and cross-referenced by hand until the patterns emerged. Langley. Hale. Three senators. One Pentagon official.
She pulled it all together, piece by piece. Timestamps. Metadata. Financial ledgers in encrypted attachments. Screenshots. Testimony. Proof.
Her fingers moved across the keys, selecting files, queuing uploads. The first batch began transmitting.
The upload bar inched forward.
Across from her, Carver sat slumped against the far end of the couch, his injured arm cradled close to his chest. He'd been quiet since they walked through the door, eyes shadowed beneath the bruising along his cheekbone. But now, as the first file finished transmitting, he spoke.
"You really think this'll work?" His came out strained.
Rachel didn't look up right away. She let the next upload start before answering. "I think it has to." Her fingers kept moving. "This is their game. They built it. Covered every angle. Hidbehind power and money and silence. But this?" She clicked through to the next folder. "This makes it public."
She finally looked up. Carver held her gaze for the first time since the warehouse.
He shifted where he sat, adjusting slowly against the cushions. Pain drew hard lines across his face, but it wasn't the wound that hollowed his voice when he spoke next.
Silence stretched between them, then he said it. "Rachel, I..." His voice caught. He looked down. "I’m sorry."
Her fingers stopped mid-keystroke. The cursor blinked on the screen. She looked up. "For what?"
Carver met her eyes again, and this time he didn't try to hide it. The guilt was right there, raw and exposed. "For not seeing it," he said. "For not stopping it. For not protecting you." His voice dropped. "For you getting taken. If I'd pushed harder... connected the dots sooner—"
"You didn't know," she said, cutting him off.
"I should've."
"No." She turned toward him fully, one hand still resting on the laptop, the other curling against her thigh. "You didn't put me in that chair. You didn't strip my shirt. You didn't lay a hand on me. That's on them." Her voice softened. "You're not the enemy."
Carver's throat worked. He looked away, his good hand curling into a fist against his leg. He didn't argue, but the weight didn't lift from his shoulders either.
Behind Rachel, Ghost's hand shifted on the back of her chair. His fingers brushed against her shoulder blade through the shirt, brief, grounding. She felt the silent support in the touch.
She turned back to the laptop. The upload bar had progressed further. More files queuing, more evidence spreading across secure channels.
"Let's finish this," she said quietly.
Echo nodded. "Ready when you are."
Ghost stood behind her, one hand still resting on the back of her chair. His other hand braced against the counter, blood still drying across his knuckles. He hadn't moved since she sat down.
His voice cut through the quiet. "The second you hit publish, everything changes."
Rachel's fingers hovered just above the keyboard. Her pulse beat hard at the base of her throat. But it wasn't fear. What moved through her now was heavier. Steadier. Certainty.
She lifted her gaze to Ghost's. Held it.
