Page 37 of Rogue Hope
He approached cautiously, voice low. “How are you holding up?”
Her eyes snapped open, wariness immediately replacing fatigue. “Fine.”
“Zara,” he began carefully, “about your illness?—”
“We’re not having this conversation,” she interrupted, voice cold.
“I’m just concerned?—”
“You lost the right to personal concern seven years ago.”
The words hit home, exactly as intended.
He backed away, accepting the rebuke even as it stung. “You’re right. My bad.”
Something flickered in her eyes—surprise at his easy acquiescence, perhaps—before she brushed past him, rejoining her team across the room.
Finn remained where he was, watching as Kenji discreetly handed her what appeared to be medication, which she took without comment.
Seven years ago, he’d made certain Zara trusted him completely. He remembered vividly the night before everything changed—her unguarded smile as she’d traced patterns on his arm, the way she’d shared her fears about their upcoming mission, her absolute confidence that they would face whatever came together.
And he remembered promising they would. Then, after assuring her they’d take one last tour of the Seine in the morning, he headed for his own room.
And disappeared with her secrets.
The memory still carried physical pain—the disbelief in her eyes when she’d realized his deception, the way her voice had broken on his name in a question he couldn’t answer honestly.
All for the promise of another payday with tainted money.
Zara returned to the lab, carrying two containers of food. She thrust one at him. “Eat this,” she ordered, returning to her own station.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
She nodded once, not looking up from her screen. “The algorithm modifications are impressive. Should be undetectable.”
“That’s the idea.” He opened the container, finding a surprisingly well-prepared meal rather than the basic field rations he’d expected.
They worked in relative silence for the next hour, finalizing preparation for the morning’s transmission. The distance between them remained, but it felt marginally less hostile.
Finally, Zara pushed away from her station, arms raised overhead. “I’m heading to bed.”
She was halfway to the door when the words flew from his mouth. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
She paused, back to him, shoulders visibly tensing. For a moment, he thought she might simply walk away.
But without turning, she replied softly. “And you did anyway.”
The simple statement hung in the air between them, neither accusation nor absolution—merely truth. She continued toward the door, pausing briefly on the threshold.
“Be in that seat at 0700 tomorrow. We’ll need to review the transmission procedures before sending the file.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After she departed, he remained in the dimly lit lab, surrounded by the sophisticated technology that would hopefully lead them to Cipher.
Yet as he stared at the classified file they’d be handing over, he couldn’t shake the certainty that his target remained several moves ahead.
Whatever came next, one thing had become clear during the Blackridge operation.
