Page 39 of Claimed by the Ghost Warrior

Because the reaction did not fit.

The file described a woman who had knowingly penetrated restricted systems and potentially compromised information tied to sensitive warriors. The woman in front of me looked as if she was trying very hard not to panic.

That could be performance. Good performance had killed experienced men. But fear had tells. So did deception.

Her fear was real.

Fear did not prove innocence. I had seen guilty males shake before execution and innocent ones stand perfectly still. But the rest of her did not fit either. No practiced evasiveness. No attempt to control the conversation through charm or misdirection. No signs that she was measuring me for leverage.

She was angry because she was frightened, and frightened because she did not know what I was.

That was not how the file had described her. The file had described intent.

What stood in front of me looked more like someone who had run because every door around her had begun closing at once.

I lowered my voice, letting the silence stretch between us. “What did you remove from the laboratory?”

Her expression shifted, not toward guilt, but toward something more open—confusion. “What?”

“What did you take?” I pressed.

“I didn’t take anything,” she said, her words quick and clipped.

“Records.”

“No.”

“Copies.”

Her jaw tightened. “No.”

“Biological data.”

She shook her head once, sharply. “No.”

She answered too fast, her eyes locked on mine. I watched the subtle tension in her throat, the way her fingers curled at her sides. Her stare hardened, anger rising to the surface like a shield, making the fear beneath it harder to see.

“I found records,” she said. “That is not the same thing as stealing them.”