“Council-tier,” I whisper, and it feels like stepping onto a deeper layer of hell.
Clint’s eyes widen slightly. “Alliance-linked. That means?—”
“That means Morazin wasn’t bluffing,” I say. “Someone high enough to touch both systems.”
Clint’s fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to dig deeper.
“Don’t—” I start, but it’s too late.
He clicks.
The terminal locks.
Instantly.
The screen flashes red.
SECURITY BREACH DETECTED. INTERNAL WATCHDOG TRIGGERED. USER SESSION FLAGGED.
A cold wave floods my body so fast my skin prickles.
Clint goes rigid. “Oh no.”
My stomach drops like an elevator with cut cables.
“Clint,” I say, voice tight, “tell me that didn’t just?—”
“It did,” he whispers. “It flagged. It triggered internal security protocol.”
The holo displays a spinning icon—then a single line that makes my blood freeze.
ALERT ROUTED TO OVERSIGHT AUTHORITY
Oversight authority.
That’s the polite phrase for the person who owns the trap.
I stare at the locked terminal. My brain races, connecting dots that feel like barbed wire.
“They know,” I whisper.
Clint’s voice cracks slightly. “They know I ran it.”
“And they know we’re close,” I say, breath coming faster now. “Which means we didn’t just trigger an alarm—we notified the very person we’re hunting.”
Clint swears under his breath, raw. “Jordan, I’m sorry?—”
“Don’t,” I snap, not because I’m angry at him, but because panic is trying to eat me and I need somewhere to throw it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. The system is designed to punish curiosity.”
Clint’s eyes flick to me. “What now?”
Before I can answer, the door opens.
And the air changes.
Lonari steps in with that controlled urgency that makes my nerves stand at attention. He smells like smoke and steel again, like he just left a war room.
His eyes flick to Clint, then to the red terminal screen, and his jaw tightens.
