11 Asher
“The Deadliest threats are sometimes the ones not even holding a weapon.”
While Scarlett is occupied with her tutor in the dining room, Declan decides it’s the perfect time to call Grant and update him on everything Zariah has uncovered.
I follow him down the secured hallway toward the office while Roman trails behind us carrying a mug of coffee like we’re walking into a business meeting instead of discussing criminal networks and potential leaks.
The office is dim except for the glow of monitors lining the walls.
Declan drops into one of the leather chairs and kicks his boots onto the edge of the desk.
“Call him.”
Roman mutters, “One day I’m gonna teach you basic manners.”
“You’ll die trying.”
I ignore both of them and connect the encrypted line. Static crackles briefly before Grant’s voice fills the room through the speaker system.
“I’m here.”
Declan smirks lazily. “Miss us?”
“Not particularly.” Roman huffs out a quiet laugh as he leans against the wall near the back monitors.
Grant continues, “Has the tutor arrived?”
I glance toward Declan immediately, because I already know where this is going. Declan grins unapologetically.
“Thought she was gonna piss herself.”
Grant goes silent for a second too long.
“What did you do?”
“He answered the door shirtless,” I say flatly.
Roman adds helpfully, “Armed.”
Grant sighs heavily through the speaker. “Of course he did.”
Declan spreads his arms. “I had pants on.”
“And knives,” Roman says into his coffee.
I grab a black t-shirt Declan must have abandoned earlier and throw it directly at his face again despite the fact he’s already wearing one now.
“Honestly,” I mutter, “you looked like the final boss in a kidnapping documentary.” Declan flips me off while Roman outright laughs. For a moment, it almost feels normal. Then Grant’s tone changes. The humor disappears from the room like someone flipped a switch.
“Zariah got inside.”
I sit forward slightly in my chair, every instinct sharpening.
“How deep?” I ask.
“Deep enough to access shipment logs and internal communications.”
That immediately puts me on edge. Zariah is good, too good sometimes.
But getting that close means one wrong move gets her killed.
Grant remotely uploads files to the office monitors, lines of transcripts and timestamps filling the screens.
Wire taps. Intercepted calls. Transaction records.
Declan’s jaw tightens as he scans the information.
“What are we looking at?”
Grant pauses.
“Trafficking routes through the docks. Weapons transfers. Offshore movement.” His voice lowers. “But that’s not what concerns me.”
One word appears repeatedly across the monitor. Angel. I narrow my eyes at the screen. Grant opens an audio file. Static crackles before distorted male voices filter through the speakers.
“…delivery needs to move Thursday…”
“…the Angel is compromised, do we shut everything down…”
The audio skips.
“…tell Mercer the Angel package doesn’t move until confirmation…”
“…nobody touches Angel without clearance…” Grant pauses the recording.
The room falls silent. Roman pushes away from the wall slowly. “That’s a code name, but the question is for what.”
I keep staring at the transcript. Every mention of Angel sounds guarded.
Protected. Important. Not like money or like drugs, but something bigger.
Grant speaks again through the speaker. “Zariah thinks Angel might be connected to the upper network.”
That gets my attention immediately. The upper network is practically untouchable.
Ghost-level operations. No names or faces.
Just whispers and blood trails, I was part of them before I got out.
No one knew who anyone else was or who called the shots.
You got your order and you did what was assigned.
I got out before things started to go sideways.
Whispers of shady deals, unwarranted hits.
“Could be a person,” Roman says quietly.
“Or intel,” I counter.
“Or leverage,” Declan mutters. Grant uploads another intercepted call.
“This one came through six hours ago.” The recording starts.
“…Knight brothers are too close…”
“…Angel needs relocated before extraction day…”
“…if they find out about Angel, the whole think will burn…” A cold feeling settles in my stomach. Because now we know two things:
One—
They know about us.
And two—
Whatever Angel is… it’s valuable enough to destroy entire operations over. Declan leans forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees.
“They’re scared.”
Grant’s voice comes through calm and steady. “Good.”
“No,” I say quietly. Both Roman and Declan look at me. I keep my eyes on the screen.
“Scared people make desperate decisions.” Silence settles heavily over the room after that. Then Grant says the one thing I was hoping not to hear.
“Zariah thinks there’s a leak.” Every muscle in my body tightens instantly. Roman lowers his coffee slowly. Declan’s expression turns dangerous.
“Inside?” he asks coldly.
“Possibly adjacent,” Grant replies carefully. “But somebody’s feeding information out before operations happen.”
I lean back in the chair slowly, dragging a hand over my jaw as my mind immediately starts calculating possibilities.
Security teams. Contacts. Routes. Supply chains.
Anyone close enough to hear movement before missions launch.
Enemies outside the walls are manageable, but enemies inside them?
Those are the ones that get people killed.
Silence hangs heavily in the office after Grant’s words.
Roman sets his coffee down slowly onto the desk, the soft clink somehow louder than it should be. Declan breaks the silence first.
“How much does Zariah know for sure?”
“Not enough,” Grant answers through the speaker. “She suspects information is moving ahead of operations, but she hasn’t identified the source yet.”
I stare at the transcripts glowing across the monitors, my mind already moving three steps ahead. If someone’s leaking information, then every operation we’ve run recently is compromised. Every route. Every contact. Potentially even this house.
“We assume everything’s burned,” I say finally.
Roman nods once immediately. “Agreed.”
Declan leans back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the armrest. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” I say calmly, “we stop reacting and start controlling the information.”
Grant stays quiet, listening. I stand and move toward the main monitor, pulling up recent operation logs.
“If there’s a leak, then we flush them out.”
Roman crosses his arms. “False intel.”
“Exactly.”
Declan’s grin slowly returns, though this one is darker. “Feed different information to different channels and see what comes back.”
Grant finally speaks again. “That’s already crossed my mind.”
I pull up a digital map of the city and several highlighted shipment routes.
“We split communications into tiers,” I explain. “Nobody gets full operational details anymore. Separate routes. Separate timelines. Separate teams.”
Roman steps closer to the monitor. “Compartmentalization.”
“Need-to-know only,” I confirm.
Grant’s keyboard clicks through the speaker. “I can isolate communication trees and monitor outgoing traffic patterns.”
Declan tilts his head slightly. “And Angel?”
That word settles across the room again like a loaded weapon. I study the transcript another second before speaking.
“We stop chasing the shipments.” Roman looks over at me.
“We chase the reaction.” Grant goes quiet for a beat.
“Explain.” I point toward the highlighted sections mentioning Angel.
“Every time Angel is referenced, their tone changes. They tighten security. They redirect movement.” I glance toward Declan. “Which means Angel matters more than the cargo.” Roman’s eyes narrow slightly as realization settles in.
“So, we create pressure points.” I nod once.
“Hit smaller operations. Disrupt movement. Force them to protect Angel.”
“Which exposes it,” Declan finishes.
Grant exhales slowly through the speaker. “Risky.”
“Everything about this is risky,” Declan mutters.
Another thought hits me instantly. Scarlett.
My gaze shifts toward the security feed showing the dining room downstairs.
Scarlett sits at the table with Hannah, focused on notes spread out in front of her completely unaware of the conversation happening upstairs.
Unaware that whatever this Angel operation is— It’s escalating. Roman notices where I’m looking.
“No one touches her.”
“Obviously,” Roman says dryly. Grant’s voice cuts back through the tension.
“There’s another problem.” Of course there is.
“Zariah says extraction day keeps getting mentioned alongside Angel.” I look back toward the monitor.
“Extraction of what?”
“That’s the issue,” Grant says grimly. “She doesn’t know.” Declan stands abruptly, pacing once across the room before dragging both hands over his head.
“So, either Angel is a person being moved…”
“Or something they’re trying to retrieve,” Roman says quietly.
The words settle heavily in the room. Person being moved.
My eyes instinctively shift toward the security feed again.
Scarlett sits downstairs at the dining room table, head bent slightly as Hannah explains something in one of her textbooks.
She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear absently while scribbling notes down completely unaware that upstairs, we’re discussing trafficking routes, leaks, and coded operations.
Unaware that my brain just made a connection I desperately don’t want to consider.
A cold feeling creeps down my spine. I stare at the screen another second too long before the thought finally slips out.
“What if it’s Scarlett?” The room goes dead silent. Roman’s head snaps toward me immediately. Declan stops pacing. Even Grant doesn’t answer right away through the speaker. I hate how quickly the possibility starts making sense in my head. The threats escalated fast after we brought her here.
Declan shakes his head instantly. “No.” But it lacks conviction.
I push forward anyway. “Think about it. We still don’t fully know why they wanted her alive.” Roman’s expression darkens.
“They could’ve killed her multiple times already,” I continue. “But they didn’t.”
Grant finally speaks. “Zariah did mention repeated references to ‘protection protocols’ tied to Angel.”