Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Humming. There was a humming sound coming from…somewhere. It was soft and low but growing louder.
Lucía woke with a start. The cot creaked beneath her as she bolted upright, breath catching in her throat. Her tank top was damp with sweat. The cabin was still dark, the faintest sliver of blue at the window marking the hour before dawn.
The sound was a low buzz coming from her laptop.
She flung off the covers and dropped into the chair, bare feet hitting floor. The screen flared to life.
Tripwire triggered.
Her stomach dropped. One of her cloaked identities—one she’d left dangling as bait—had been pinged.
She pulled up the data trail. The access signature was layered, stacked with enough VPNs and route bounces to make most analysts give up.
But she wasn’t most analysts.
She parsed the signature again. It wasn’t cartel.
Too careful. She scrubbed deeper, looking for code patterns.
The metadata was precise. Calculated. Like a field op running tech support.
Fast, clean, professional, but not the kind of chaotic aggression cartel traffickers used when probing for targets.
Government?
No. Not directly. Too freelance. But good.
Her breath slowed. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad. “They sent someone,” she whispered. She stared at the screen, her own reflection ghosted in the black background.
It wasn’t the cartel coming in with guns blazing. Not yet. Whoever this was had taken the bait, and now they were moving. Which meant she wasn’t safe. Not even here.
But she knew the trail now. And this time, she wouldn’t wait to be caught.