Page 4 of Slap Shot
Charlie's weight increased against his leg as Oliver's heart rate spiked. His hand found the dog's head automatically, fingers working through soft fur.
"Even if that were true, statute of limitations—"
"Has expired, yes." Her expression shifted, not softness exactly, but recognition. Like she understood the desperation that drove smart kids to make stupid choices. "I'm not here to destroy you, Chenny. I'm here because I need your help."
"My help?" The whiplash from terror to confusion left him reeling.
"Someone's been systematically probing the Chill's network for weeks. Not some script kiddie or opportunistic hacker. This is someone with serious skills and intimate knowledge of our systems." She leaned forward, and Oliver caught a hint of her perfume. It was clean and sharp and made him think of winter mornings. "They're using techniques that make your old GhostWire work look amateur."
"And you think I can help because...?"
"Because you understand how these people think. You've been inside their heads, used their methods." Another swipe revealed IP logs and access attempts that made Oliver's stomach clench. "And because whoever's doing this has shown particular interest in your personal files. Medical records, contract details, YouTube analytics. They know exactly who GhostWire47 became."
The coffee in his stomach turned to acid. "Someone's targeting me specifically?"
"You and the team. Your past is being weaponized to map our vulnerabilities." Her jaw tightened, and Oliver glimpsed steel beneath the professional facade. "Last night they nearly accessed confidential medical files. I stopped them, barely."
Protective rage flared hot in Oliver's chest. Every guy in that locker room had secrets that could destroy careers in the wrong hands. The thought of some faceless attacker violating that trust made him want to check someone into next week.
"What exactly are you proposing?"
"A deal. You help me think like the enemy, identify weaknesses before they can be exploited. Use that computer science degree for something that matters." She held his gaze steadily. "In exchange, your past stays buried and your teammates stay protected."
Oliver studied her face, searching for the angle, the trap. Instead, he found something unexpected: respect. She wasn'tlooking at him like a reformed criminal or a liability to be managed. She was looking at him like a colleague.
Like someone worth trusting.
"Why should I believe you won't just turn me in once you get what you need?"
"Because I could have done that already." She gestured to her phone. "I've had this evidence for a week. If I wanted to destroy you, you'd already be destroyed."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want to catch whoever's trying to hurt your team." Her voice carried a fierce edge. "I want to use every tool at my disposal. And I want to work with the only person I've met who might actually be smart enough to help me do it."
The compliment hit him unexpectedly. When was the last time someone had looked at his past as an asset instead of a liability?
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I go it alone. And if whomever is out to get you, outs your past.” She shrugged. “But I'd rather have you working with me."
Charlie's tail thumped against the floor, responding to the shift in Oliver's emotional state. The anxiety was still there, coiled in his chest, but it was being crowded out by something else. Professional interest. The same feeling he got when Coach Vicky sketched out a complex play that pushed their system to its limits.
"When would this partnership start?"
"Now. Today." Her eyes flashed with anticipation. "Because I think whoever's been mapping our systems are preparing for something bigger."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I know how this game works. I've been hunting people like your old self for years." She leaned back, and Olivernoted the graceful line of her throat, the confident set of her shoulders. "The pattern is always the same: reconnaissance, mapping, exploitation. They're at stage three."
Oliver’s competitive instincts engaged. It was the same drive that pushed him to be first to the puck in board battles. "What do you need from me?"
"Your expertise. Your perspective. Your willingness to think like someone trying to infiltrate and destroy. And maybe, if we're lucky, you can track down whoever's been using your past to threaten your future."
He looked down at Charlie, who was watching him with the steady patience that had gotten them through panic attacks, playoff pressure, and the daily challenge of living with a brain that sometimes turned against him. The dog's brown eyes seemed to confirm what Oliver already knew. They could do this.
"All right, Dr. Quincy," he said, meeting her gaze. "Let's catch some hackers."
