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Chapter 58
Her reply came within minutes: Say less. Sending you in under a misplaced transit sheet review. You’ve got one hour. I’ll cover if it runs over.
I grinned. “Remind me to name my first–born after her,” I mumbled to no one.
Sublevel 3 was quiet–too quiet. The lights buzzed overhead, flickering occasionally like they knew they weren’t supposed to be on. Most of the cabinets down here were sealed with analog locks, the kind that required a key instead of a swipe badge. But Emma had delivered, and the one I needed was marked clearly: SECTOR DELTA – FIELD LOGS.
I opened it slowly. Inside: folders packed tight, labeled in ink that had faded to rust–brown. I found what I was looking for by instinct more than logic. A troop movement map, some field notes, a list of personnel IDs. Half the pages were smudged, water–damaged, or half–erased—but names were still
there.
I snapped photos of everything I could. No flash. Just quick, silent clicks. Then I closed the drawer, adjusted it to make it look untouched, and slipped back out the way I came.
By afternoon, I was back in my room, standing in front of the board. I pinned up the troop map and started matching names. Some were unfamiliar. A few popped up again and again: Red Fang. Clearwater. Sector Delta Commander Kaye. And one woman whose name kept appearing next to ‘ casualty reports‘–someone who had vanished two weeks before the war’s final withdrawal.
I remembered the name from an earlier note. She’d been bonded to someone from Clearwater.
I stepped back from the board and crossed my arms. “What were you covering up?” I whispered.
A knock pulled me out of it.
Simon.
“Hey,” he said. “Quick thing. I ran a check on access logs like you asked. Someone remote accessed your terminal last night.”
My stomach dropped, “Last night?”
“About twenty minutes after your last login.” He held up a tablet. “The credentials used were masked, but they piggybacked off a static IP I traced to the staff admin lounge.”
I didn’t need him to finish the sentence.
“Adam,” I said.
Simon nodded. “Jenny’s covering for him again. Says he’s ‘just under pressure.‘ But I thought you
should know.”
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I stood. “Where is he now?”
“Skipped today’s prep meeting. Again.”
I found Adam in the east wing, hunched over a console in the media room like he wasn’t trying to look suspicious. He jumped when I walked in.
“Jesus, Amelia. You scared me.”
“You accessed my terminal.”
“What? No. Why would I-”
“Don’t lie to me.”
He blinked, tried to recover. “You’re being paranoid. I don’t even know how to spoof an IP.”
“You’re sloppy,” I said. “Not stupid.”
He straightened, indignation slipping over his face like armor. “You think you’re so clever. Just because Richard likes you.
My blood boiled, but I kept my voice calm.
“Stay out of my files–or I will burn every bridge between you and this council.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t scare me.”
“Good,” I said. “Then you won’t flinch when the fallout hits.”
That night, I was still reeling when someone knocked softly on the guest suite door. I cautiously opened it to find Richard standing there with a worn cardboard box in his arms.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt. I found these in a storage closet. My early tenure case files. Figured you might find something useful. Or at least some decent coffee stains.”
He set the box down on the desk. I opened it and thumbed through the folders, a wave of scent rising -dust, ink, something vaguely citrusy.
He hovered behind me. I pulled out a folder labeled CROSS–PACK INCIDENTS and opened it halfway. A page slipped out. We both reached for it at the same time.
Our fingers touched.
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Chapter 59
