Chapter 26 The Syndicate’s Final Exchange #3
Roman caught the folder, breath punching out of him. “Ava - ”
Her eyes pinned him. “You said you’d protect me. Protect me by letting me do this.”
Roman’s throat tightened. He wanted to deny her. Wanted to take control. Wanted to keep her from being the one to walk into the courtroom with blood on the evidence trail.
But the traitor had just revealed the shadow account tied to Roman’s credentials. That meant the compromise wasn’t a one-time theft. It was a long game. If Ava waited for Roman to be certain, she’d miss the only window that could force the truth into daylight.
Roman’s gaze dropped to the drive in his hand, then back to Ava’s face. “If you file - ”
Ava cut him off. “I know.”
She didn’t sound brave. She sounded resolved. Like she’d already accepted the cost and was choosing it anyway.
The traitor’s smile returned, smaller now, sharper. “You think this is the end.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “It’s the end for your leverage.”
The traitor lifted their hand toward the platform again, toward the exchange point. “Then you should’ve asked what else was in the room.”
A second device - half-hidden under the steel barricade - clicked alive.
Ava’s breath caught. “Roman - ”
Roman moved. He shoved Ava sideways, pulling her away from the platform edge just as a low, bright hiss filled the chamber. Not gas this time - something else. Something designed to scorch wiring and erase drives by heat.
The syndicate muscle surged forward, too late to stop Roman from getting between Ava and the barricade, too late to stop the evidence from being in his possession.
Hot air licked at Roman’s face, the heat brutal and sudden. He felt the heat through his jacket, felt it threaten to blister skin.
Ava grabbed his arm, fingers digging in. “Let me - ”
“No.” Roman’s voice was raw, discipline cracking. “Stay with me.”
He wrenched the drive into the inner pocket of his jacket, close to his body, where the heat might be delayed by fabric and his own stubborn refusal to lose it. Then he slammed his palm against the steel barricade, feeling the vibration from the device below.
The traitor’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “You saved the wrong thing.”
Roman’s stomach turned. “What did you do?”
The traitor’s gaze flicked past Roman, toward the far wall where a small control panel sat behind glass. The glass had a crack line running through it, webbing outward like a spider’s work.
A digital message began to display on the panel in clean, brutal text - something Ava would recognize as a wipe handshake, a final confirmation signal.
Ava’s voice went thin. “Roman… that’s not our purge.”
Roman stared at the panel, his mind racing.
If someone had triggered a wider system wipe - if the exchange chamber fed into a larger network - then saving the drive might not be enough.
The uncorrupted copy could still vanish if it wasn’t extracted fast, if the channel that would transmit it was already compromised.
And if the traitor had designed this exchange to look like a retrieval, then the real target was Ava’s access to her own evidence trail.
Roman’s gun stayed up, but his focus split: protect Ava, secure the drive, and stop the wipe handshake from finishing.
He turned his head toward Ava, heat still licking his cheek, and saw her eyes locked on the panel with attorney clarity that made him want to both respect her and punish the world for daring to test her.
“You have to move,” Roman said. “Now.”
Ava’s lips parted. “If I move, they’ll take my folder.”
Roman’s grip tightened on her wrist. “They won’t get it from me.”
Ava’s gaze sharpened, and for the first time since the exchange began, she looked like she was about to do something reckless for the sake of truth.
Then she shook her head once, slow. “No. If they take my folder, they lose the chain of custody.”
Roman felt the choice in her bones before she spoke it. “Ava - ”
She pulled her wrist free and stepped toward the cracked control panel, ignoring the heat blooming around her like a warning flare. “The traitor confirmed the shadow account tied to your credentials. That means the wipe is aimed at the evidence trail, not just the drive.”
Roman lunged, but the traitor laughed - low, delighted. “Too late.”
The panel’s display shifted, numbers racing, and the glass over it spiderwebbed further.
Ava reached for the panel anyway.
Roman grabbed her waist and hauled her back, but the movement came with a cost: his jacket caught on the steel edge, and the drive’s inner pocket seam strained.
For one ugly second, Roman felt the drive shift, felt the weight threaten to slip.
Then the traitor’s voice cut through the chamber one final time, intimate as a whisper against Roman’s ear.
“Run, Roman. But if you don’t pick the right thing to save… she won’t survive the fallout.”
Roman looked down at his pocket - then up at Ava - heat fading into a cold, hard understanding.
The exchange wasn’t just erasing data.
It was rerouting blame.
And Ava was standing too close to the switch meant to make Roman the criminal - again - while the truth burned in real time.