Page 73 of Knight

I crack the second layer, and the fragments begin to form into something clearer.

Adaptive protocol. Oversight needed.

I lean back, rubbing a hand over my face.

Eva frowns, her mug resting on her knee. “What does that mean?”

“It means the virus wasn’t just designed to breach systems—it was designed to evolve in real time,” I say. “This is Victor’s way of telling me that the second coder’s work was vital to making that happen.”

Her brow creases. “Do you think it’s Michael?”

“I don’t know. Without seeing the way your brother codes, I can only guess.” I carry on scrolling through the logs. “But if Victor went to these lengths to give me a warning, it means something is about to happen, and he needs me to be aware of it.”

The third layer of encryption is tougher. Victor’s work is flawless, each line a masterpiece of code. It’s impressive, even for him, and frustrating as hell. My jaw tightens as I type, each keystroke pushing me closer to the answers I need.

“What is it with him and making things harder than they need to be?” Her voice breaks the silence.

“It’s not about difficulty.” I don’t look up. “It’s about control. Victor likes proving he’s smarter than everyone else. And maybe he is, but that doesn’t make him less of a pain in the ass.”

"Knight?" Her voice carries an edge of fear. "What aren't you telling me?"

I sigh, and sit up straight, reaching back to rub at my spine. "I told you there’s another signature in the code, a second coder?” She nods. “Well, that coder helped design this virus. I think Victor is trying to tell me something about them. There are oddities in the code. Like the second person’s work is being forced into specific parameters that they don’t usually use.”

The implications hang heavy in the air between us, although I’m pretty sure she has no idea what it means. She shifts closer, probably unconsciously seeking stability as her world tilts again. Her shoulder presses against mine, warm through the thin material of my shirt.

"I should have known something was wrong." The words emerge barely above a whisper. "I should have tried harder to reach him."

"Hey." Without thinking I reach out and catch her jaw, forcing her to meet my eyes. "This isn't on you. We don’t know if this is anything to do with your brother." But my instincts are telling me otherwise. The coincidences stack up too much to be anything else.

Tears gather in her eyes but don't fall. Something in my chest twists at the sight. Before I can stop myself, my thumb brushes across her cheekbone.

She leans into the touch, and just like that the space between us feels charged with possibilities I can't afford to acknowledge. Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers. My own heart rate kicks up to match.

"Eva ..." The word comes out rough, a warning I'm not sure is meant for her or myself.

She shifts closer, erasing what little distance remains between us. My hand slides from her cheek to curve around the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. Every instinct screams that this is dangerous, that I can’t risk this kind of vulnerability.

Then her lips brush mine, hesitant and uncertain, and thinking becomes impossible. The kiss deepens before I can stop it, before I can remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat that undoes what's left of my control.

For a brief moment, everything else fades—the virus, the logs, Victor. All I can feel is her warmth, her presence anchoring me in a way I didn’t know I needed.

It’s grounding and dangerous all at once.

The chime from the computer slices through the moment like a knife. I pull away abruptly, my breathing uneven, and turn back to the screen.

Victor’s final breadcrumb resolves, the directive blinking in stark letters.

Deadline critical.

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