Page 90 of Duty Compromised
“Donovan,” I said, and my brother materialized in the doorway. I didn’t know what else to say.
“I got her.”
I looked at Charlotte one last time. She’d already returned to her laptop, fingers flying across the keys, but I caught the tremor in her hands. She was scared.
Good. Scared meant careful.
“Ready?” Ethan asked as I joined him in the hallway.
He’d transformed into Volkov—subtle changes in posture and expression that somehow made him look older, harder, Eastern European. The accent would complete the illusion.
“Ready,” I said.
We headed for the exit, weapons ready, comms live. Behind us, Charlotte’s fingers typing on her keyboard were the only sound in the abandoned building besides our footsteps.
I touched the spot on my vest where she’d grabbed me during that kiss, still feeling the phantom pressure of her hands.
Always.
The word echoed in my head as Ethan and I stepped into the darkness, moving toward whatever waited in that warehouse.
Chapter 27
Charlotte
The comms unit crackled in my ear as I hunched over my laptop in the run-down office building. Through the static-laced connection, Ethan’s voice came through steady and controlled, his Russian accent perfect down to the slight Muscovite inflection.
“Da, I understand your concerns about authentication.” His tone carried just the right amount of aristocratic impatience. “But you contacted me, remember? Through channels that very few people know about.”
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to initiate the stabilizer code deployment the moment we had confirmation. The office around me was a study in decay—water-stained ceiling tiles, peeling paint, the lingering smell of mold and dust. But I wouldn’t be here long.
I wished I could see what was going on in the warehouse, rather than just hear. I wasn’t entirely sure where everyone else on Ty’s team was positioned. He’d wanted to be right next to Ethan during the buy, ready to provide immediate backup, but that wasn’t possible. Someone might recognize him from the earlier incidents. So instead, Ethan was walking into that warehouse essentially alone while the rest of the team maintained overwatch positions.
The thought made my stomach twist into knots.
Donovan shifted in the hallway just outside my door—I could hear the soft scrape of his boots against the gritty floor. Ty had assigned his brother as my personal protection, and Donovan had taken the assignment seriously, checking the building’s entry points every fifteen minutes like clockwork. He didn’t say much, but this wasn’t the time for chitchat anyway.
“Mr. Volkov.” A new voice, professional but cautious, came on the comms. American accent with a hint of something else underneath. Military background, maybe. “You’ll forgive our caution. The item you’re interested in purchasing is…unique.”
“Unique items require unique prices,” Ethan responded smoothly. “Fifteen million, as discussed. Half now, half on delivery.”
My hands trembled slightly as I pulled up the quantum signature detection program. If they actually had the Cascade Protocol with them, it would show a very specific electromagnetic pattern—quantum entanglement created a signature as unique as a fingerprint.
But what if this went wrong? What if they saw through Ethan’s cover? The FBI had uncorrupted agents positioned around the perimeter, George had assured us of that, but they were hanging back to avoid spooking the sellers. By the time they could move in, Ty and Ethan and the others could already be?—
No. I couldn’t think like that.
“You understand what you’re purchasing?” the seller asked through the comms. “This isn’t some simple malware or ransomware variant.”
“I’m aware,” Ethan said dryly. “The ability to weaponize lithium-ion batteries on a massive scale. Every phone, laptop, electric vehicle becomes a potential bomb. The destabilization possibilities are…extensive.”
My stomach turned. Hearing it laid out so clinically, the sheer scope of destruction the Cascade Protocol could cause, made everything we’d been through worth it. This had to work.
The quantum signature detection program suddenly lit up, lines of data cascading down my screen. There it was—the unique electromagnetic pattern that could only come from the specific quantum entanglement matrix I’d designed.
They’d brought it. This was about to be over.
Through the comms, more shuffling, footsteps moving across concrete. Then Ethan’s voice, clear and carrying that note of satisfaction that meant everything was proceeding according to plan. “Everything looks good.”
