"What else do you see?"
She considers. "The timing. Konstantin's attacks have been escalating: the scrying, the depot, and now the donors. But his intelligence has been perfect. Every strike exactly where it hurts most." She pauses. "That's not luck. That's someone who knows your priorities. Who knows what matters to you."
"Someone close."
"Maybe. Or someone who's been watching for a long time."
The thought chills me. How long has Konstantin had eyes inside my operation? Weeks? Months? Longer?
"There's something else," Celeste says. "The letter. He mentioned me specifically."
"I told you…"
"I know what you told me. But think about it. How did he know I mattered to you? I've been here eight days. I've been on two missions. Most of that time I've spent training or in the medical wing."
The question stops me cold.
She's right. To an outside observer, Celeste should look likeany other new recruit. Useful, perhaps, but not significant. Not someone worth naming in an ultimatum.
Unless someone told Konstantin otherwise.
"The leak isn't just sharing logistics," I say slowly. "They're sharing observations. Personal ones."
"Someone who's seen us together. Who noticed that you're..." She trails off.
"Different with you."
"Yes."
The circle of suspects narrows dramatically. Not just anyone with file access, someone close enough to observe my behavior. Someone in the inner circle itself.
"That limits the possibilities," I say.
"It also raises the stakes. If the leak is someone close to you…"
My comm buzzes before she can finish. Marcellus's voice: "We found something. You need to see this."
I meet Celeste's eyes. Whatever we've discovered here, it will have to wait.
"On my way."
I stand, offer her my hand. She takes it, lets me pull her to her feet. For a moment we're standing too close, her hand still in mine, the weight of everything between us, the kiss, the grief, the danger, the growing understanding that whoever is betraying us knows exactly what she means to me.
"This isn't over," I say quietly. "What you figured out matters. You matter."
"I know." Her fingers squeeze mine briefly before releasing. "Let's go see what they found."
The security centerhas transformed in our absence.
Maps cover every available surface. Data streams across multiple screens. Julian and Nadia are huddled over a tablet while Marcellus stands at the main display, his expression carved from stone.
"Report," I say.
Marcellus pulls up a series of timestamps. "We traced the access logs for donor addresses and security camera positions. Two separate systems, two separate access points, but the queries happened within minutes of each other."
"Two people?"
"One terminal. The access credentials belong to Cyrus Knight."
