“I traced the transactions from their origin points. Before they even hit the joint accounts.” He steps closer, his voice dropping. “The diversions happen on the Russian side. Every time.”
I consider my options. Denial would be pointless—Rafa wouldn’t confront me without being certain. Partial truth, then.
“I suspected as much,” I admit. “But I don’t know who’s responsible.”
“Bullshit.” His voice remains low but takes on a dangerous edge. “You’re NyxBinary. You could trace this in your sleep.”
“It’s not that simple?—”
“It is that simple.” He moves closer still, backing me against the wall. Not threatening, but intensely present. “Either you know and you’re covering for someone, or you haven’t really been looking. Which is it, Kira?”
His proximity is distracting—the subtle scent of cedar and ozone, the heat radiating from his body, the focused intensity of his gaze. I force myself to concentrate.
“I’ve been looking,” I say carefully. “But whoever’s doing this knows our systems intimately. Knows how to cover their tracks.”
“Someone inside your organization,” he presses. “Someone your father trusts.”
A flash of Alexei’s warning face crosses my mind.Some questions shouldn’t be asked. Some answers shouldn’t be sought.
“Yes,” I finally admit. “Someone Russian. But my father refuses to consider it. He’s convinced it’s your family.”
“And you didn’t think to share this with me? After I explicitly told you someone was framing me?”
His anger is justified, but there’s something else beneath it—hurt as if my lack of trust is personal rather than practical.
“I needed to be certain. I’m still not certain.” I tell him.
“Certain of what? The evidence is clear.”
“Evidence can be manipulated. You of all people should know that.”
He studies me, those dark eyes missing nothing. “You know who it is, don’t you?”
I hesitate too long.
“Kira.” My name on his lips sounds like both a demand and a plea. “If our families go to war over this, we’ll both be caught in the crossfire. Who ever you’re protecting, it’s not worth that.”
“I’m not protecting anyone,” I insist, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
“Then tell me a name.” His hand comes up to rest against the wall beside my head, caging me without touching. “Tell me who’s behind this.”
Something in me cracks—a hairline fracture in the armor I’ve spent years perfecting.
“Someone from our past,” I whisper. “A ghost my father was supposed to have buried years ago. I’m not going to say the name.”
Rafa’s brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Because knowing his name puts you in danger,” I say quietly. “He’s not just a hacker. He’s personal. And he has a very long memory.”
“And now?”
“Now I think he’s very much alive and targeting both our families. Using your encryption style to frame you, while operating from within our systems to stay invisible.”
“Why would your father turn a blind eye to that?”
I look away. “I don’t know. But Alexei warned me to stop investigating. Said it was dangerous.”
“Dangerous for whom?”
