Page 33 of Fang

“Because I defected.”

“Probably. But let me try a few more things.”

Hours pass in tense silence broken only by the click of keys and occasional muttered curses from Fang. I alternate between watching the street below and studying his progress, my anxiety mounting with each failed attempt.

He pulls off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose where they’ve left red marks. “I need water. There’s a vending machine at the end of the hall.”

“I’ll go,” I say, grateful for something to do besides wait.

When I return with two bottles, Fang has moved from the desk to stretch his legs. The room seems to shrink with both of us standing, forcing an awareness of proximity that’s impossible to ignore. As I hand him a bottle, our fingers brush, the contact brief but electric. His eyes meet mine for a moment too long before he looks away, twisting the cap off with more force than necessary.

“Any progress?” I ask, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.

Fang shakes his head, returning to the desk. “They’ve implemented some serious countermeasures. Multiple authentication layers, rotating encryption keys, active trace protocols.” He takes a long drink of water, his throat working. “Someone’s learned from my past breaches.”

I move to look at the screens again, careful to maintain more distance this time. “Can you get past it?”

“Given enough time, yes.” He sets the bottle down with a plastic crinkle. “But we don’t have that luxury. Every minute we spend trying to brute force our way in increases the chance they’ll detect the intrusion.”

“Want me to give it a shot?” I ask.

“Have at it.”

I give it my all for the next hour, but I’m no closer to getting in than he was. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. “Now what?”

Fang turns to face me, his expression grim. “We’ll have to infiltrate one of their facilities and connect directly to their internal network.”

“A cartel hospital,” I say, the implications immediately clear.

He nods. “There’s a private clinic in the Polanco district that’s known to be cartel-controlled. Serves as a treatment center for their higher-ranking members.”

“How do we get in?”

“The oldest trick in the book.” His lips curve in a humorless smile. “We walk right in. Say we’re IT support, there to upgrade their systems.”

“That’s… convenient,” I say, suspicion immediately flaring.

“It’s logical,” Fang counters. “Medical facilities are constantly updating their technology. And with the cartel moving your brother, they’re probably enhancing security across all their operations.”

He’s right, and the plan has a certain elegant simplicity. “So we pose as IT contractors?”

“I pose as the contractor. You pose as my assistant.” Fang returns to his keyboard, pulling up the clinic’s floor plans. “We get in, access a terminal, download what we need, and get out.”

“Simple,” I say, not bothering to hide my skepticism.

Fang glances back at me, his eyes serious behind his glasses. “No, but it’s our best shot at finding Rory.”

The mention of my brother’s name cuts through my doubt. I’d walk into the heart of the cartel’s headquarters if it meantbringing him home safely. A clinic is, at least comparatively, lower risk.

“When?” I ask, already calculating what we’ll need.

“Now,” Fang says, turning back to his screens. “They do system maintenance after hours. Less staff, less people asking questions, less chance of someone recognizing you.”

I nod, feeling a strange mix of dread and determination.“Let’s go.”

Outside, Mexico City pulses with nightlife, oblivious to our presence or purpose. Somewhere in this sprawling metropolis, Rory waits, perhaps wondering if I’ve abandoned him. The thought sends a spike of pain through my chest.

I won’t fail him again. No matter what it takes, I’m bringing him home.

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