Page 90 of Knight

The flash driveI brought back with me from Horizon Tech holds more than just virus code. I've spent hours combing through the data, finding breadcrumbs Victor left scattered throughout their systems. Patterns emerge in access logs, security protocols, network configurations.

Eva sleeps in my bed, exhausted from our escape. The name in my head feels natural now. I can’t pinpoint the moment when Glitch became Eva in my mind, but it has. Like so many other walls I've built, that defense has crumbled too.

I should be resting, but my mind can’t leave the data alone. Something about the way certain systems were targeted feels deliberate.Moredeliberate, I should say, because viruses are always designed with a reason in mind. But this one … it has additions to it that make no sense. It’s almost like they’re signposts, pointing me in a direction Victor wants me to go. And so, I follow it.

My screen fills with a flood of information—building schematics, personnel files, project documentation—everything meticulously organized, each piece part of a larger puzzle. The virus wasn’t just designed to cripple their infrastructure; thatwas only one part of the plan. The real goal was gathering data while the company was distracted combating the virus.

A new pattern catches my eye. Encrypted network traffic is splitting off from the rest, heading in a direction that doesn’t quite make sense. I trace it. It bounces between random servers, making it harder to pin down, but eventually, I track it to a new server location.

I open another tracker, running a quick check on the path. The data leads me to a building on the outskirts of the city. While my programs work to break into the system there, a new notification pops up. I’ve set up a trace to monitor any files linked to Michael Porter. And there it is. A few clicks bring up his employee access logs—showing that his credentials were used to access core systems during odd hours, in the weeks leading up to his disappearance.

"Son of a bitch." The curse emerges under my breath as I expand the data.

The access patterns don’t match standard intern protocols. Michael wasn’t just doing basic tech work; he was embedded deep in their systems. And his work—his coding style—matches the cruder implementation I found layered through Victor’s virus.

I trigger a few more commands, watching my programs bypass their first level of security. The screen flashes briefly, and then the system opens wider. The facility’s network traffic shows regular data bursts, encrypted with the same algorithm I found in the virus architecture. High-level security protocols, automated defenses, armed patrols. This isn’t standard corporate protection. And the surveillance—what I’m seeing through their own cameras—suggests they’re more interested in keeping people in than out.

My fingers move across the keyboard, digging deeper into the facility's systems. Power consumption, supply deliveries, guardrotations—everything points to a sophisticated containment operation.

The scale of what we're facing settles like lead in my stomach. This isn’t just about finding Eva’s brother anymore. It’s about discovering who has enough resources to hold Michael, forcing him to code something potentially catastrophic. And if they have him, they might have Victor too. And that means that this isn’t a petty game my mentor has set up to fuck with me, it’s something bigger.

A soft sound from the bedroom pulls my attention away from my screens, a quiet reminder of what happened between us earlier. The way she felt, how she looked at me, what happened after we made it out of Horizon Tech ... It shouldn’t be clouding my focus, but it is. I force myself to look back at the screen, trying to shake off the distraction. I need to stay sharp.

Each new piece of data that my programs unravel confirms the truth I’ve been avoiding. I can't handle this alone. Not with what's at stake. Not with the level of security I'm seeing. The facility's defenses are layered—physical barriers, electronic surveillance, armed response teams. And those things lead me to the conclusion that whatever is in there … it’s important enough for me to want access. But getting in will require more than just computer skills. It’ll need pretiming and multiple skill sets that I don’t have … but I know people who do.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I check the screen. I don’t involve my brothers in my work. Just like they don’t involve me in theirs unless absolutely necessary. We respect each other's separate lives, separate businesses. Separate secrets. But this ...

When you’re faced with a facility that has military-grade security, an unknown number of hostile forces, and potentially at least one tech prisoner who may not be in any condition to help himself, you have to use what you have available.

For this, I need Bishop's ability to create perfect covers, and Rook's tactical expertise. The kind of coordinated infiltration that only comes from working as a team.

I dial Bishop's number before I can talk myself out of it. It connects on the second ring.

"Finally decided to update us?" Bishop's tone carries the sharp edge I deserve after my earlier dismissal.

"I need help." I don’t waste my time with small talk. "Both of you. It's about what happened at my apartment."

There’s a short pause, and then his voice shifts from irritated brother to businessman. "What kind of help?"

"The kind that requires your particular skills.AndRook's."

"How bad?"

"Military-grade facility. Armed patrols. At least twenty guards." I scan the schematics again. "I can't handle this alone."

"We'll be there in twenty."

When my phone buzzes nineteen minutes later, I initiate the elevator's descent. They exit the elevator with the kind of focused intensity that comes from years of handling dangerous situations.

"Before you look at anything," I say, leading them into my workspace, "you need to understand what we're dealing with. The explosion at my apartment was just the start. It's all connected to Victor Nash."

"Your old mentor?" Rook's eyebrows lift. "The one who died in prison?"

"Apparently he’s not as dead as I thought he was." I turn my screens so they can see the facility schematics. "He's been leaving me messages. Warnings about something happening at Horizon Tech. When we breached their systems earlier today, I found this facility. The security suggests they're holding something there. I’m pretty sure I know what’s in there, but I need to get inside to find out."

Bishop leans closer to study the layouts while Rook examines the patrol patterns with professional interest.

"Initial count shows at least twenty guards based on rotation patterns. Unknown number of other personnel." I switch to satellite imagery. "Three-minute gap in north sector coverage during shift changes."

---