Page 70 of Rogue Hope
“We might identify their operational patterns,” she finished, already turning back to her own computer. “I’ll start the analysis.”
Her withdrawal was subtle but unmistakable. She’d been increasingly distant since yesterday afternoon—working more independently, excusing herself frequently, maintaining physical space between them. Finn had attributed it to her health, noticing the slight stiffness in her movements that signaled increasing joint pain.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked gently.
Something flickered across her face—an emotion he couldn’t quite identify before it disappeared behind her careful mask. “I’m managing,” she replied. “Just tired.”
“You should rest,” he suggested, concern coloring his voice. “I can continue alone for a while.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Let’s just focus on the work.”
Finn nodded, respecting her boundaries while silently vowing to watch her more carefully. Lupus was unpredictable; he’d learned that much from his research since learning of her diagnosis. If they were going to continue working together—perhaps even rebuild something of what they’d lost—he needed to understand her condition, to support her through the inevitable difficult days.
The thought caught him off guard with its presumption of a shared future. When had he started thinking in those terms again? When had he allowed himself to hope?
They worked in companionable silence for another hour, making incremental progress tracing Cipher’s digital fingerprints. Occasionally, their findings would intersect, creating moments of shared discovery that felt achingly familiar—echoes of their brief but intense partnership.
“I need some air,” Zara announced suddenly, rising from her seat. “And my medication. Back in ten.”
“Take your time,” Finn replied, watching with concern as she moved gingerly toward her room. Her posture betrayed discomfort, reinforcing his suspicion that she was experiencing a mild flare.
Alone in the living room, Finn stretched and moved to the windows, scanning the perimeter out of habit. The coastal property remained secure, isolated enough to provide safety while maintaining escape routes if needed. He’d chosen thislocation years ago precisely for these features, never imagining he’d one day share it with Zara under such circumstances.
His gaze caught on a framed photograph on the wall—an impersonal landscape that came with the property. What would it be like to have personal photographs here instead? Evidence of a life shared, moments captured?
The fantasy unfurled unbidden. Zara laughing on the beach below, both of them standing on the balcony watching a sunset, perhaps even?—
A sound outside interrupted his thoughts—so faint most would miss it. But Finn’s senses, honed by years of operations, instantly registered the anomaly. Something wasn’t right.
He moved silently toward his weapon, concealed in a holster beneath the desk. As his fingers closed around the grip, the front door burst open with explosive force.
Six figures poured through in formation. Ronan in the lead, followed by Deke, Griff, Axel, Kenji, and a petite tattooed woman with a fierce expression. Knight Tactical’s elite team in full gear, weapons raised and aimed directly at his center mass.
“Hands where we can see them, Novak!” Ronan’s command cut through the room. “Now!”
Finn’s assessment was immediate and conclusive: no viable escape route, no defensive position, no possibility of overcoming six highly trained operatives. His weapon remained half-drawn, useless.
“Easy,” he said calmly, slowly raising his hands. “No need for bloodshed.”
His eyes darted toward the hallway where Zara had disappeared, expecting to see her emerge in confusion or alarm. Instead, she appeared in the doorway, standing with practiced calm, her expression carefully neutral. No surprise. No confusion. No outrage at the team’s intrusion.
Just grim resolution.
The truth hit him with devastating clarity. She had called them. She had orchestrated this.
“Zara?” Her name escaped his lips as a question, a plea for this not to be what it appeared.
Her eyes met his, steel-cold and unreachable. “Secure him. Full restraints. He’s dangerous.”
“Yeah,” the smaller woman added, glaring into his eyes. “Best get him out of my sight before I deck him.”
Deke and Griff moved forward efficiently, forcing Finn to his knees before securing his wrists with zip ties. He offered no resistance, his body responding automatically while his mind struggled to process the catastrophic collapse of everything he’d believed.
“Why?” he asked quietly as they pulled him to his feet, the single word containing multitudes of questions.
Zara watched him with clinical detachment, her expression betraying nothing of what lay beneath. “You’re a Cipher operative,” she stated flatly. “I found the evidence. Digital communications, access patterns to planted evidence, operational timelines. It’s over, Finn.”
The accusation was so unexpected, so wildly inaccurate, that for a moment Finn could only stare in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I’ve been hunting Cipher, not working for them. You know that.”
