Page 6 of Rogue Hope
Not unless absolutely necessary.
The highway narrowed into a two-lane road that climbed steadily through pine forests. Finn cracked the window, letting the crisp mountain air fill the car. It smelled of pine sap and wildflowers, so different from the recycled air of server rooms and safe houses where he’d spent much of the past seven years.
A small part of him—the part not consumed by pain, paranoia, and purpose—appreciated the irony. Throughout his career, first as Cipher’s reluctant asset and later as the criminal’s most dedicated adversary, he’d operated in some of the world’s most dangerous locations. Yet none of those places frightened him as much as this picturesque mountain town where Zara Khoury now lived.
The road curved sharply, revealing the town nestled in a scenic valley. Hope Landing looked like a postcard come to life—historic buildings with colorful facades, tree-lined streets, and a bustling main thoroughfare where tourists and locals mingled. Fourth of July decorations adorned storefronts and lampposts, giving the whole place a festive air that seemed to mock his grim purpose.
Finn slowed the car as he approached the town limits, his decision crystallizing with each passing second. He’d assess the threat against her, if there was one, and eliminate it, protecting her from afar to ensure Cipher’s vendetta against him didn’t touch her life. And if she wasn’t in play, he’d simply skulk off.
It was the least he could do. The only thing he could do.
A digital billboard near the welcome sign flashed news about the upcoming Independence Day celebration, featuring a parade scheduled for tomorrow. Finn made a mental note.Public gatherings provided excellent cover for surveillance but also created security vulnerabilities. If he wanted to ensure Zara’s safety, the parade would be both an opportunity and a challenge.
He adjusted his baseball cap lower, obscuring his bruised face as best he could, and drove past the “Welcome to Hope Landing” sign. Behind him, the mountains stood sentinel against the cloudless sky. Ahead, somewhere in this idyllic town, was the woman he’d betrayed seven years ago.
The woman he’d come to protect, even if it killed him.
And given his current physical condition and the unknown threat circling them both, death seemed like a distinctly possible outcome.
4
The texts had hauntedZara’s dreams, transforming ordinary nightmares into something more insidious. By 0400, she’d abandoned all pretense of sleep, trading her tangled sheets for the sanctuary of Knight Tactical’s empty headquarters. The anonymous sender had hijacked her thoughts—whoever they were, they understood exactly how to weaponize fear. And as her car cut through the pre-dawn darkness, she couldn’t shake the sensation of invisible eyes tracking her every move.
The headquarters stood silent, windows dark as she unlocked the side entrance. No one else would arrive for hours—a rare window of absolute privacy she desperately needed. The pain was more intense this morning, punishment for yesterday’s stress and her restless night.
The quiet of early morning usually brought clarity and focus—a chance to work without interruption. Today, it only amplified her sense of isolation as she initiated a comprehensive security sweep of Knight Tactical’s digital infrastructure.
She bent over her keyboard, setting up tracking algorithms and initiating trace programs she’d developed during her CIA days. If someone had penetrated their system deeply enough to monitor her activities, they would have left digital footprintssomewhere. Nothing stayed perfectly hidden in cyberspace, not even from someone with her skills.
Or so she had believed.
Three hours later, frustration and anxiety competed for dominance as she hit another dead end. Every IP address she traced led to phantom proxies that dissolved when she got close. Encrypted pathways vanished into digital thin air. Security logs showed no unauthorized access, yet the message indicated intimate knowledge of her actions.
“This isn’t possible,” she muttered, pushing away from her desk and pacing the length of her office. The Eastern Sierra mountains gleamed in the morning sunlight beyond her window, their peaceful majesty a stark contrast to her inner turmoil.
She’d encountered sophisticated defenses before, both at the CIA and in her work with Knight Tactical, but this was different. The tactics weren’t just advanced—they were eerily familiar, as if the intruder knew exactly how she would try to find them and had prepared specific countermeasures just for her.
The thought sent an uncomfortable chill through her. Few people could anticipate her cybersecurity methods. Most of them were either former colleagues or ...
Zara shook her head sharply, refusing to let her mind wander down that particular path. Some ghosts were better left undisturbed.
A burst of laughter from downstairs broke her concentration. The team must have arrived for the final day of float preparations. Tomorrow was the parade, and judging by the escalating enthusiasm she’d witnessed over the past week, the Knights were taking the competition very seriously.
She saved her work, locked her system, and headed downstairs. Perhaps a brief break would reset her perspective, allowing her to see a pattern she’d missed.
The scene in the hangar was controlled chaos. What had been a skeletal framework of a pirate ship two days ago now resembled something from a Hollywood set. The wooden deck gleamed with fresh stain, the mast rose majestically toward the hangar ceiling, and hand-painted details adorned every visible surface.
Deke stood at the center, safety glasses pushed up on his forehead, clipboard in hand, directing operations. “Griff, dude, we need those cannon portals functional in the next hour. Ronan, Maya—that sail needs to be secured at exactly thirty-seven degrees or the whole thing will catch the first breeze and capsize in the middle of Main Street.”
“Aye aye, Captain Control-Freak,” Griffin replied, the typically taciturn sniper actually smiling as he saluted with a paintbrush.
“I’m creating a maritime masterpiece here, Hawkins,” Deke shot back, though his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Details matter.”
“So does beating Christian and his team,” Axel added, carefully attaching LED lights along the gunwale. “I mean, let’s be honest. It’s all about beating Knight Tactical--the OG crew.”
A collective groan rose from the group. The two Knight Tactical teams took any chance to compete. And the Old Guard was running two wins ahead. For now.
“No worries,” DJ reported, not looking up from the control panel he was programming. “Have you seen their float?” He snorted, the sound heavy with derision in the way only a teenage boy could manage. “Lame-o-rama. I saw Christian at the craft store yesterday buying Roman shields made out of tin foil.”
