Chapter 17 Roman’s Cold Hands, Ava’s Warm Truth #2
“I found the override plate after we were sealed in,” he said. “The compartment got damaged during the escape attempt. I suspected the traitor had placed a secondary access there. I… checked it.”
Ava’s voice went lower. “And?”
Roman forced himself to meet her eyes. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you moving while you were hurt.”
Ava’s lips pressed together. Then she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it since the strobe died. “You’re still doing it,” she said. “You’re still treating my agency like it’s dangerous.”
Roman’s chest tightened. “It is dangerous.”
Ava’s gaze sharpened. “Then tell me what you found. Don’t make it my problem while you keep your hands clean.”
For a moment, Roman just listened to the van. The hum of the battery. The soft rattle of tools. The faint, irregular ping of a system that wanted to notify him of a purge cycle, of a lock cycle, of something that could destroy them.
He should have told her earlier. He should have trusted her.
He couldn’t undo the past, but he could stop bleeding in silence.
Roman leaned closer to the med bay housing and tapped the panel beside the gurney. “There’s a hidden access in the compartment that took impact when the lockdown sealed. It’s meant to be unreachable unless the panel is opened with a specific card.”
Ava’s eyes flicked to the small seam in the med bay frame. “A card you didn’t show me.”
Roman’s lips tightened. “I didn’t want you to see it if I was wrong.”
Ava’s voice cracked around the edge of a laugh that wasn’t funny. “Roman, you’ve been wrong in silence for weeks.”
His chest tightened at the word weeks, at the weight of every withheld detail since he’d decided he knew better. He could feel the cold of his own discipline pressing against something warm and human in him - something he’d been starving.
“I wasn’t wrong,” Roman said, and his honesty finally warmed in his throat. “I just didn’t know what it meant yet.”
Ava stared at the seam. Her fingers twitched against the restraints as if she could will the access open by force of will alone. “Show me.”
Roman’s mind flashed with the cost - if she saw it, she’d push. If she pushed, the traitor might trigger the next stage. If the next stage hit, she could die.
He should have said no.
Instead he said, “I will. But you don’t touch it until I verify the card’s permissions.”
Ava’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “You’re offering me rules like they’re love.”
Roman’s gaze dropped to her lips, to the way her sedation slowed her movements but didn’t soften her spirit. “I’m offering you truth.”
Ava’s eyes held his. “Then offer me my choice.”
Roman’s restraint tightened like a muscle. He wanted to argue, wanted to protect by taking control. He wanted - God, he wanted to put his hand on her face and tell her she didn’t have to fight alone.
But the van demanded decisions, and the evidence demanded speed.
Roman reached for the compartment seam and slid the med bay tool kit from its bracket, careful not to jostle her. The metal was cold under his palm. He pried at the seam with the precision of a man who’d learned pain management in places where no one cared if you lived.
The hidden latch clicked.
A narrow panel swung inward, revealing a shallow cavity lined with foam. Inside, wrapped in a thin anti-static sleeve, lay an access card - matte black, edges worn like it had been handled too often by someone who believed they’d never be caught.
Roman’s breath caught.
Ava’s eyes went bright, the sedation suddenly irrelevant. “There.”
Roman slid the card out with the edge of his tool, keeping it between them. The air smelled faintly of plastic and something metallic, like old coins.
Ava leaned forward against the restraints, eyes locked on the card. “That’s not for the drive.”
Roman’s gaze flicked to the panel’s internal marking - an embossed symbol he recognized from the internal leak alerts. “It points to primary storage,” he said. “Not the drive copy.”
Ava’s voice steadied. “So the traitor’s real archive is in the network the access card can reach.”
Roman nodded once, slow.
Ava’s expression shifted, fear and anger mixing into something sharper. “And you were going to keep this from me.”
Roman’s throat tightened. He could still feel the urge to lie, to keep her safe by controlling what she knew. It would have been easier. It would have been familiar.
But he was done with that version of himself.
“I didn’t want you to see it yet,” he admitted. “Because the compartment was compromised. Because I suspected it meant the traitor wanted us to find it.”
Ava’s eyes narrowed. “Wanted?”
Roman held the card out further, letting her see the embossed marking without letting her reach it. “This card isn’t just access. It’s bait with a key.”
Ava’s breath turned shallow, and Roman hated that the truth made her pulse quicken. He hated that his honesty put her closer to danger.
Still, she met his gaze like a vow. “Then we use it faster than they expect.”
Roman’s body went tight. He wanted to say no. He wanted to say, Let me do it. Let me take the risk so you don’t have to.
But Ava had asked him to treat her like a partner, not a liability.
Roman’s restraint finally shifted - less lethal now, more human. His voice softened by a fraction. “I’ll use it. And you’ll stay in control of what you authorize.”
Ava blinked, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t an apology. It was a change.
Roman reached for the med bay’s external port - one that would interface with the van’s internal network without routing through the corrupted drive. His fingers hovered, then pressed the card into the slot.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the med bay lights flickered back to life - dim, harsh, insufficient to make the room comforting. A thin line of text scrolled across the panel, crisp and merciless.
ACCESS CONFIRMED.
PRIMARY STORAGE: ONLINE.
TRANSFER PATH: ACTIVE - PURGE ROUTE INBOUND.
Ava went very still again. The sedation couldn’t hide the way her eyes sharpened at the last line.
“Purge route,” she repeated, like she was tasting the words for poison. “So they didn’t just corrupt the drive.”
Roman stared at the panel, the coldness in his chest turning heavier. He’d expected a remote wipe, maybe a data scramble.
He hadn’t expected the system to announce a purge like a scheduled execution.
The van’s comm system chimed again - three tones, escalating. In the reflection of the panel glass, Roman saw his own face pale and controlled, and Ava’s face tense with fierce clarity.
He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “When the purge hits, it won’t just erase evidence.”
Ava’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “It will erase us.”
Roman’s jaw clenched. He could feel the urge to take her hands and promise safety he couldn’t guarantee. He could feel the urge to pull her into his body like a shield.
Instead, he kept his hand on the panel and forced himself to do the next necessary thing. He opened a secure interface, the kind he’d forbidden himself to use unless absolutely necessary - because it would expose his internal suspicion to the network he was trying to keep blind.
Ava’s gaze cut to him. “Roman.”
He met her eyes, and there was no lie left to offer. “I was wrong about one thing.”
Ava’s voice turned quiet. “What?”
Roman’s breath came out slow through his nose. “The traitor wasn’t only reacting to what we moved.”
Ava frowned, tension tightening her mouth. “Then what were they reacting to?”
Roman swallowed. The panel’s timer kept counting down in brutal seconds.
He looked at the card in the slot, then at Ava’s temple wound, at her brave stubbornness, at the warmth he could feel even through sedation and restraints.
He told her the truth he’d been keeping locked behind discipline.
“My access suspicion wasn’t about the drive,” Roman said. “It was about me.”
Ava stared at him, anger and comprehension colliding in her expression. “You thought the traitor had access because of you.”
Roman nodded once. “I thought they were inside my command based on the patterns I’ve seen - based on how quickly the facility responded. I didn’t want to admit that I’d been tracking myself as a possibility.”
Ava’s breath hitched. “Roman - ”
The timer flashed.
PURGE ROUTE INBOUND: 00:00:12.
Roman slammed his palm against the interface, forcing the system to reroute through the primary storage access - through the bait - before the purge controller could finish its cycle. He heard the van’s internal locks click, felt the sudden shift in pressure against the med bay walls.
Ava’s eyes widened. “Roman, wait - ”
“I can’t.” His voice scraped raw. “If I wait, it wipes everything.”
Ava strained against the restraints, fighting sedation with rage. “Then don’t do it alone.”
Roman looked at her, and in that instant the cold hands he wore like armor became something else - still controlled, still dangerous, but warmed by a promise he’d finally stopped trying to earn through silence.
“I won’t,” he said.
He began the transfer.
The med bay lights dimmed again - this time for real - and the panel went black except for one last line, glowing red against the dark.
TRANSFER CONFIRMED.
YOU ARE BEING VERIFIED - LIVE.
Ava’s breath turned sharp as she stared at the red text, realizing what Roman had just triggered without meaning to.
And Roman realized it too, too late to pretend this was only about evidence.
Because the verification wasn’t for the system.
It was for the watcher.