"Icannot work without a pen."
Ireach into the drawer and pull out my own pen—a sleek, heavy mass of cold black steel.Islide it across the floor, the metal rasping against the concrete until it hits her feet.
"Usemine."
Shepicks it up, weighing the dark, masculine metal in her palm.Itlooks too big for her delicate fingers, a permanent mark of my ownership resting in her hand. "Keepit,"Icommand. "Considerit your first down payment."Thedark, masculine metal looks too big for her delicate fingers, creating a sharp contrast against her pale skin.Holdingmy gaze across the room, she lifts the pen straight to her mouth.Insteadof biting down on the cap, she merely rests the cool metal against the swollen, red fleshIjust claimed.
"Thankyou," she whispers.
Groaninglow,Iturn my full attention back to the monitor.Survivinganother forty-eight hours in this locked box might actually kill me.Beforethat happens, killing the bastards who threatened her takes top priority.Theabsolute second this heavy steel door unlocks and guarantees her safety,Iplan to make good on every single dirty threatIjust whispered into her skin.Typingthe execution code into the command line brings up a blinking cursor.Thetarget is officially acquired, and the mole has nothing to do with it.
Silencestretches heavily for another full hour.Thickand charged, the static of our unresolved tension infects the room.Feelingevery single shift of her weight keeps my nerves on edge, and hearing her soft sighs forces my jaw to twitch.
Herpace accelerates drastically.Adrenalinefrom our violent encounter sharpened her focus, sending her flying through the spreadsheets with her fingers blurring across the laptop keyboard.
"Elias," she calls out suddenly.Asteady, professional tone anchors her words, yet a dark rasp bleeds through the edges.
"Yeah?"
"Themirror signal goes beyond copying the data.Thecode is actively injecting a foreign script."
Spinningmy chair around brings her back into view. "What?"
"Lookhere."Pointingdirectly at the screen, she remains firmly seated on the floor, knowing far better than to step within reaching distance of my hands right now.
Squintingacross the room helps me read the data streaming down her monitor.
"Smallpackets," she explains. "Itfilters micro-transactions of mere pennies, but the volume adds up fast.Thealgorithm exists purely to devalue the assets over time.Stealingthe money isn't the goal,Elias.Dissolvingour wealth entirely is the real threat."
Icefloods my veins. "Assetforfeiture,"Irealize out loud. "Droppingthe assets below a specific value forces the bank to call in the loans.Theproperty enters immediate default, allowing the government to legally seize the land."
"AndtheIRSautomatically freezes the accounts," she finishes. "Aperfect pincer move designed to take the land."
Theclubhouse, the secured compound, and the fortified territory theGunnarshave bled to hold for three generations are the real targets.
"Thecash means nothing,"Isay, the harsh reality locking into place. "TheCostasalreadyhave money.Takingthe mountain gives them the high ground."
"Failingto stop this algorithm guarantees the club goes bankrupt byMondaymorning,"Miawarns. "Atechnical bankruptcy grants theFedsa warrant to seize the property by noon."
"Twelvehours remain before the banks open onMonday,"Icalculate.
"Canwe stop the bleed?"Lookingup from her screen, she places her complete trust in my hands, staring at me likeIam the only man in the world capable of fixing the disaster.
"Stoppingthe script outright fails the mission,"Isay.Theheavy math finally clicks into place, overriding the residual lust clouding my brain. "Blockingthe injection alerts them to our presence, triggering a secondary attack."
"Sowhat is the play?"
"Wefeed the beast,"Ianswer, feeling a slow, dangerous smile stretch across my face. "Feedingthe algorithm exactly what it demands makes it think it is winning.Creatinga ghost ledger duplicates the club’s finances entirely."
"Fakebooks," she breathes out. "Youare ordering me to cook the books."
"Forginga masterpiece is the actual request,"Icorrect smoothly. "Claimingto be the absolute best forensic auditor in the staterequires proof.Buildinga financial house of cards that looks legitimate ensuresCosta’salgorithm eats the bait whileIsecretly move the real assets into our offline, untraceable accounts."
Bitingher lower lip, she taps the end of my heavy black pen against her chin. "Thatplan is highly illegal.Fraudand massive conspiracy charges apply."
"Youare already under federal arrest,Mia,"Iremind her bluntly. "Mightas well actually earn the iron bracelets."
Staringacross the room, a slow, dangerous smile curves her lips.
