Page 99 of Lethal Deceit

She sees it in my face. “OPM’s been breached. The senator used Mona to find buyers.”

“What’s OPM?” Jake asks.

Caleb, still watching the screen and coordinating with the team, answers. “Office of Personnel Management.”

My thoughts align in an instant. “How bad is bad?”

Adena exhales. “Twenty-two million records compromised.”

Jake looks baffled. I’m cold with dread.

“What’s the big deal?” Jake presses.

“The big deal,” Caleb says, “is OPM stores sensitive data on government employees.”

“Not just employees,” Adena says. “Their families. Anyone vetted for a background check. Names. Addresses. Birth dates. Socials. All of it.”

Caleb scrubs a hand down his face. “If that card falls into the wrong hands, they can find and target the families of high-level officials. Kidnapping. Blackmail. Worse.”

The room goes still.

“If she gives them that memory card…” Adena starts.

But I’m already gone.

Samantha

He grabs me and slams me against the wall so hard my vision sparks.

“You ask questions you should not,” he says, his voice quiet, accented, each word deliberate. “So let me give you one answer.”

His hand clamps around my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes—cold, pitiless.

“I am El-Maati,” he murmurs. “And you… are out of time.”

His hand closes around my throat, and he squeezes. “Access the file.”

Stars explode behind my eyes as his grip crushes my windpipe, cutting off every breath. I let out a strangled whimper, and he loosens his hold—just enough for me to speak.

“She played you,” I rasp. “And you fell for it. There is no memory card.”

His face turns crimson before he grabs me around the throat again and smashes my head into the wall. My legs sag, my limbs useless as tears fill my eyes, blurring the rage on his face.

This is it. This is the end. He’s going to kill me. Slowly, probably.

I’m going to eternal punishment, and I’m not ready to face God.

Voices blur in my head—Adena, Brooke, Mick—all tangled and jarring. My chest tightens, breath caught somewhere I can’t reach. I squeeze my eyes shut.

And I pray.

God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Mick’s right, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway. I’m not worthy, I never was.

A whisper of a thought cuts into the pain tearing through my body. But it’s not the ugly voice I’ve known all my life telling me I’m worthless and deserve to die.

It’s calm, peaceful, and fills me with hope.

You are worthy, little one.

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