Page 197 of Damsel in Disguise

“You’re going to explain that very carefully,” the barrel remains fixed between my brows.

The dawn light continues to creep across the ruined hall, glinting off the gun.

I don’t look away. “Ariella was supposed to be a variable. She was supposed to be temporary.”

“That’s not helping your case,” he presses the cold tip against my skin.

I continue nonetheless. “But if I intended to use her, I would’ve delivered her to them months ago, and you know it wouldn’t be difficult for me to do so,” his nostrils flare as I continue.

“Instead, I’m standing here trying to burn the entire system down, putting me at risk before they get their hands on her.”

He hesitates, and I take the chance.

“You’re a man who built an empire, Asher,” I nod toward the tablet again. “You know exactly what sits in that device. Information like that isn’t shared. Not unless you’re desperate or willing to lose everything for someone.”

The gun remains fixed on me. But the certainty behind it wavers.

His gaze flicks toward the tablet in my hand, then back to my eyes.

As though he’s trying to reconcile the man standing in front of him with the information sitting at his feet.

“Fucking hell,” his other hand runs over his face.

“So this is the part where I discover the mysterious stranger feeding me information is confessing his unbound love for my sister.”

I scoff in disdain upon hearing the use of the very specific word—love.

He pokes my forehead with the pistol. “What game are you playing now, Alistair?”

I look at him without flinching. “If shooting me helps, feel free to do so. But first, do something useful.”

The insult catches him off guard, but still, he’s on full alert, ready to tackle me if I do something out of the blue.

“I beg your finest pardon?”

“I mean, you can have your turn pointing that gun at me if it helps. One bullet. Five bullets. Empty the magazine if it makes you feel better. But not before you do what I brought you here for.”

A short, humorless breath leaves him. “You think I can just—what—erase something like this overnight?”

“I believe you can act before it stabilizes further,” I correct him. “At most, we have today. Maybe twelve hours if we’re lucky. Maybe none if we’re not,” and glance toward the brightening horizon.

That finally earns a shift.

Something close to genuine emotion, unfortunately, stirs beneath my composure. “If this were only my problem, I would’ve buried it myself,” I say quietly.

Organizations like Triarch Dominion survive because people assume someone else will stop them. Someone else will expose them. Someone else will intervene with all the risk. And in the end, none does.

I spent years believing I could dismantle it from within. All I accomplished was learning how much bigger it is than the picture.

The dawn continues brightening around us. Time keeps moving. Far too quickly.

“I don’t need you because I can’t pull the trigger, Keinston,” my gaze locks onto his. “I need you because if I disappear today, someone else still has to be their rival.”

Understanding slowly settles over his features.

“If these files vanish with me, Triarch Dominion survives.” I glance toward the tablet again. “If they reach CynoTech, the media, your contacts, your security divisions, your investigators…” my eyes return to his. “then suddenly the organization has thousands of enemies instead of one.”

The pistol lowers. It means he’s no longer deciding whether to shoot me. He’s deciding whether to believe me.