Page 4 of Rogue Hope
It meant telling the team.
Kenji read her expression perfectly. “At that stage, hiding your condition becomes impossible. They’ll need to understand why you’re flying to Rochester every few weeks, why you might need extended recovery.”
The thought made her hands clammy. Not because she didn’t trust her teammates—they’d proven themselves beyond loyal—but because acknowledging her illness so publicly meant admitting weakness. Vulnerability. In the CIA, weakness equaled failure.
“I’m managing it,” she insisted, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Are you?” He raised an eyebrow, setting his phone on her desk. “Because that fever you’ve been hiding all morning says otherwise.”
She almost smiled despite herself. Kenji might ignore the world when his betting teams played, but nothing escaped his medical radar. “It’s low-grade. Barely 100.”
“For now.” He dropped into the chair opposite. “Look, I’m not trying to nag you into submission. I just ...” He ran a hand through his dark hair, fatigue evident. “I care about you. We all do. You don’t have to handle everything alone.”
For a moment, she considered telling him about the threats. Kenji was uniquely positioned to understand both the medicaland cybersecurity angles. But the weariness in his eyes stopped her. He already carried her medical secret.
Adding another weight wasn’t fair.
“I know,” she said softly. “And I appreciate it more than I can say.”
His phone buzzed. He checked the screen and groaned. “Apparently there’s a critical structural integrity issue with the crow’s nest. Deke’s exact words. Probably means the cardboard tube is bending.”
She smiled. “The float drama continues.”
“You coming down? For real this time? Or do I make good on my threat and bring everyone up here?”
“In a minute. Just need to finish up.”
Kenji stood, studying her face once more. “Take your medication before you come down. The anti-inflammatories, not just the antimalarials. And if that fever spikes even half a degree?—”
“I’ll tell you immediately,” she promised. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a Scout,” he pointed out, expression lightening.
“How do you know? I’m a woman of mystery.”
“A woman of stubbornness is more like it,” he retorted with obvious affection. “Don’t make me come looking a third time.”
When the door closed, her smile vanished. She powered down her workstation, planning to find an external network she could trust. Maybe the secure terminal at the public library—ironically, sometimes the most obvious locations provided the best cover.
She reached for her pill case, taking the prescribed doses while plotting her next move. What she wouldn’t give to talk to Izzy right now. Her friend’s blend of mechanical logic and fiery intuition would cut straight through the confusion. But Izzydeserved her vacation with Chantal—their first real mother-daughter time in months.
No, this was Zara’s burden. At least for now.
She pocketed her phone and stood. The team would expect her downstairs soon, and maintaining normalcy was crucial. Whatever—whoever—was behind these threats, she wouldn’t show them she was rattled.
The guys were more than teammates; they were family. The kind that rushed into burning buildings for each other, that showed up with soup during sick days, that remembered birthdays and coffee orders. In the two years since founding Knight Tactical, they’d built something precious together. Something worth protecting.
If protecting them meant handling this threat alone, that’s exactly what she would do.
“Lord, give me wisdom,” she whispered, her grandmother’s favorite prayer coming naturally. “And strength for whatever comes next.”
The sounds of laughter and good-natured bickering echoed up the stairwell—her team, her family, blissfully unaware of the darkness that had crept into her world.
For now, she’d smile, and act normal.
Like she always did.
3
