Alive.
I exhale slowly, forcing my attention back to the primary display. The quarterly revenue projections are strong. Client retention is at ninety-seven percent. Our government defense contracts are secure. Everything is functioning exactly as it should.
Except I cannot stop checking the feed.
Sixty seconds pass.
I glance at the biometric data again.
Heart rate: sixty-one beats per minute.
Still asleep.
Still safe.
The door to the command center opens without warning.
Kael Thorne enters carrying a tablet and two cups of coffee. He is my lead intelligence operative, a wolf shifter with silver-gray eyes and the kind of tactical precision that makes him invaluable. He has worked for me for twelve years. He knows my patterns. My rhythms. My tells.
He sets one coffee cup on the table in front of me.
Then he glances at my personal display.
At the biometric feed.
His expression does not change, but I see the flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"You have been checking that feed every ninety seconds for the past four hours," he says.
It is not a question.
"I am monitoring a security concern," I say.
"A security concern with a resting heart rate of sixty-one beats per minute?"
I do not answer.
Kael sits down across from me, setting his tablet on the table. He taps the screen once, and a new holographic display materializes between us.
Financial transaction records.
My financial transaction records.
"We have a problem," he says.
I straighten in my chair, my wings shifting restlessly against the reinforced frame. "Explain."
"Sentinel Dynamics has been conducting forensic audits on our corporate structure for the past six weeks," Kael says. "They are attempting to identify vulnerabilities in our client base, our supply chains, our personnel."
"That is not new information," I say. "Marcus Hale has been circling for months."
"Correct. But three days ago, their audit flagged an anomaly."
He swipes the display.
A new file appears.
Transaction history. Dates. Amounts. Routing numbers.
