Page 112 of The Honeymoon Hack
“The Pendragon team released me when they confirmed we’re penetration testers.” Each word came out measured, deliberate. I’d practiced this lie during my sprint through theserver corridors, but it sounded thin in the echoing space. “Gideon Tremaine hired us to test Mnemis’s security.”
“I’m sure he did.” Lark’s laugh held no humor, just the flat sound of someone who’d heard every possible deception. “Any other lies you want to tell me before I kill you, Will Reaney?”
Fuck. He knew my real name.
“Will,” said Brie in a rush, “he’s with Fenix.”
The smirk on Lark’s face made my blood run cold. Of course, he was Fenix. For the past six months, every time one of our jobs went south, it was because of them.
Greek Fire. That was it! Fenix had been gathering treasures from ancient civilizations. And this formula was one more item.
Think about it later. Focus on saving Brie.
I kept my hands visible, palms open, despite every instinct screaming at me to move, to fight, to do something other than stand here like a target. But Brie was between us, and any wrong move might get her killed first.
“Claire told me she sabotaged the Orchid server to prevent the Greek Fire formula from being sent out of the data center.” I forced myself to meet his stare, to project the confidence of someone telling the truth. “It’s a wiring problem in the network stack. I know exactly what’s wrong and how to fix it.”
His eyes narrowed, and I could see him calculating—weighing the risk of trusting me against his need for the upload to work. The rifle never wavered. “Or you’re here to create a distraction while Pendragon moves in.”
Hopefully, yes.“I don’t give two shits about whether Fenix gets whatever Haddad was researching or not. But if you know who we are, you also understand I’ll do anything to protect Brie. If you promise to let her go once the upload is done, I’ll fix the hardware for you. Otherwise, it’s not going anywhere.”
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the hum of servers and my pulse hammering in my ears. I tried to keep mygaze locked with his, in case he gave any signal that he was about to shoot.
But I couldn’t help checking Brie.
The fear in her eyes made me want to hold her. But the angry red mark across her cheek and the knowledge he’d held a knife to her throat made me want to rush Lark and kill him with my bare hands.
He hurt her.The thought cut through me like a blade.He put his hands on her and hurt her.
Lark studied me for what felt like hours. Then he jerked his head toward the server rack. “Move. You try anything, she dies first. And slowly.”
The casual way he said it—as though we were discussing the weather—made my knees wobble. But I pushed the cart forward, closer to the Orchid server.
As I passed Brie, I noticed her shirt was also torn at the shoulder, revealing a scrape on her collarbone. Tightening my hold on the handle of the crash cart, I mouthed,How are you?
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said, just loud enough for me to hear. The defeated sound of it nearly broke me.
Of course I came.Where else would I be? She was here, in danger, and that meant this was where I belonged. Even if it killed me. Especially if it killed me, if it meant she’d live.
The door to rack fifteen was already open, with a demolition block on the floor, along with tape and a roll of detonation cord.
Bloody hell, he was going to blow the server when he was done.
I stopped myself before I looked at Brie and thought again about tackling Lark so Brie could escape.
Instead, I focused on the scene in front of me. Lark had plastered blocks of C-4 on and around the server.
Not good.
I pulled the server unit out on its rails and examined the rear connections, easily identifying the damage. Claire had done a thorough job—several fiber optic cables in the bundle were frayed, and the network interface card was loose in its slot. It was professional sabotage disguised as maintenance issues.
Fixing it was familiar. I’d done repairs like this hundreds of times before. But never with a rifle pointed at my back, never while the woman I loved stood bleeding twenty feet away, never while calculating how many minutes I could stretch this before Lark lost patience and started shooting.
“Fifteen minutes,” I told him.
“Make it five, or she’s dead.”
Five minutes? That was nowhere near enough time for a rescue. But maybe I could build trust, keep him talking, find some kind of opening.
