Chapter 13
CYPRESS
The words leave Knox's mouth with the casual certainty of someone announcing they're stepping out for coffee, not proposing a felony that could land us both in federal prison.
He stands at the window of our cramped office, his silhouette blocking out the fading afternoon light, and declares that he will infiltrate Hoffstead's headquarters alone under cover of darkness to retrieve the ledgers we need.
"Absolutely not." The objection rips out of me before I can even process the full scope of his plan. I push up from my chair so fast that it rolls backward and crashes into the filing cabinet with a metallic clang that seems obscenely loud in the sudden silence. "You are not going in there alone."
Knox turns to face me, one thick eyebrow raised in what I've come to recognize as his amused-but-patronizing expression.
The late afternoon sun catches the gold rings threaded through his braided tusks, making them gleam like war decorations, and for a moment I'm struck again by how utterly incongruous he looks in this mundane corporate setting.
He belongs on a battlefield somewhere, leading armies, not trapped in a twelve-by-twelve office with water-stained ceiling tiles and a temperamental radiator.
"You misunderstand, little valkyrie." This is not a negotiation. I am informing you of my intentions so that you may prepare the necessary legal documentation to exploit whatever evidence I retrieve. Your role is here, where your magnificent mind can be put to its highest use."
"My role is wherever I decide it needs to be. And right now, it needs to be watching your back while you commit corporate espionage against a man who has already demonstrated he's willing to play dirty."
"Cypress—"
"No. Listen to me." I step closer to him, craning my neck to maintain eye contact despite the absurd difference in our heights.
The top of my head barely reaches his sternum, and I have to fight the urge to stand on my tiptoes just to make this confrontation feel slightly less ridiculous.
"You're brilliant at intimidation. You're brilliant at strategy.
You're brilliant at making grown men wet themselves with a single well-timed growl.
But you don't know the first thing about modern security systems, corporate building layouts, or the specific protocols that Hoffstead's firm uses for after-hours access. "
"I have conducted raids on fortified enemy positions since before your grandfather's grandfather drew breath. I am capable of navigating a simple office building."
"A simple office building with motion-activated cameras, biometric locks, pressure-sensitive flooring on the executive level, and a security team that does random sweeps every forty-five minutes.
" I tick each item off on my fingers, watching his expression shift from confident dismissal to grudging attention.
"I know this because I spent three hours this afternoon pulling every piece of publicly available information about Hoffstead's security infrastructure.
His firm handles sensitive financial data for some very paranoid clients, which means his building is locked down tighter than most government installations. "
Knox is silent for a long moment, his jaw working as he processes this information.
I can practically see the gears turning behind those sharp amber eyes, reassessing his assumptions, recalculating his approach.
It's one of the things I've come to admire most about him over these chaotic weeks—his willingness to adapt when presented with new intelligence, even when that intelligence contradicts his initial instincts.
"You have studied their defenses," he says finally, his tone shifting from dismissive to something closer to respect.
"Extensively. I wrote a packet-sniffing script to intercept the rotating access codes for the service entrance keypad.
" The memory of that particular reconnaissance mission still makes my eyes burn—staring at scrolling lines of encrypted data for forty-eight hours straight, hunting for the single vulnerability in Hoffstead's perimeter security that I could exploit.
"And I know the patrol schedules, because Hoffstead's head of security is sleeping with one of our junior analysts, and she's been feeding me information in exchange for my promise not to tell HR about her unauthorized access to the rival firm's employee database."
"You have been conducting intelligence operations. Without my knowledge. Without my authorization."
"I've been doing my job." I refuse to look away, refuse to show even a flicker of uncertainty even though my heart is hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
"You hired me to be your First Mate, and the ledger isn't going to balance itself if we're both sitting in federal prison because you charged into enemy territory without proper reconnaissance. "
The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy with something that feels like a test. Knox takes a step closer to me, then another, until he's standing so close that I have to tilt my head back at an almost painful angle to maintain eye contact.
His presence is overwhelming at this distance—the heat radiating off his body, the faint woodsmoke-and-leather scent that clings to his skin, the sheer physical mass of him blocking out everything else in my field of vision.
"You are the most magnificent creature I have ever encountered. Fierce and clever and utterly without fear. I do not deserve such a warrior at my side."
The service entrance of Hoffstead Financial Group's headquarters is tucked away in a narrow alley between the main building and a parking structure, partially hidden behind a row of industrial dumpsters that reek of old coffee grounds and decomposing takeout containers.
It's exactly the kind of location that no self-respecting criminal mastermind would choose for a break-in, which is precisely why it's perfect.
Hoffstead's security team focuses their attention on the obvious access points—the main lobby, the underground parking garage, the rooftop emergency exits.
The service entrance is monitored by a single camera that sweeps the alley in predictable ninety-second intervals, but the door itself is secured by a high-grade electronic lock that requires a synchronized digital handshake.
I connect my tablet to the diagnostic port beneath the keypad while Knox stands watch behind me.
My custom script cycles through the encrypted permutations, the screen flashing rapidly until a green light illuminates the panel, and the door clicks open with a sound that seems impossibly loud in the nighttime quiet.
"We're in," I whisper, though whispering feels slightly absurd given that we're technically still outside.
"Stay close and follow my lead. The security station is on the second floor, but the guard does a circuit of the ground floor every forty-five minutes.
We have about twelve minutes before his next pass. "
Knox nods, his expression focused and alert. He looks like a Fortune 500 assassin, and I absolutely refuse to acknowledge how devastatingly attractive that is right now when we need to focus on not getting arrested.
The service corridor is dimly lit by emergency exit signs that cast everything in an eerie red glow.
I move quickly but carefully, mentally counting doors and cross-corridors as we go, matching the layout to the building plans I memorized earlier today.
Knox follows close behind me, and I'm struck again by how quietly he moves for someone his size.
His footsteps are barely audible, each placement deliberate and controlled, and he navigates the narrow corridor without once brushing against the walls or knocking into the scattered cleaning carts and supply bins that line our path.
"You're surprisingly stealthy," I murmur as we pause at a junction, waiting for my internal timer to confirm we're clear to proceed.
"I was not always a warchief." His breath is warm against the top of my head. "Before I led armies, I was a scout. I spent seven decades learning to move unseen through hostile territory."
"Seven decades." I do the mental math and decide I'm absolutely not equipped to process the implications of dating someone who measures their professional development in centuries. "That's... a lot of practice."
"Enough to keep you safe tonight." His hand settles briefly on my lower back, a grounding touch that sends warmth spreading through my core despite the chill of the air-conditioned building.
"I may not understand your human security systems, but I understand shadows.
I understand patience. And I understand how to eliminate threats before they have a chance to raise an alarm. "
"Let's try to keep the eliminating to a minimum," I say quickly, shooting him a sharp look over my shoulder. "This is a stealth mission, not a massacre. We get in, we get the ledgers, we get out. No casualties, no evidence, no trail that leads back to us."
"You wound me, little valkyrie." His teeth flash white in the darkness as he grins, and I catch a glimpse of his tusks glinting in the red emergency lighting. "I am perfectly capable of restraint when the situation demands it."
"Mmhmm." I turn back to the corridor ahead, checking my mental map one more time before gesturing for him to follow.
"The stairwell is thirty feet ahead on the left.
We need to go up four floors to reach the executive level, and we need to do it fast. The pressure sensors in the stairs are disabled for a maintenance window, but that window closes in exactly eight minutes. "
We move.