Page 113 of The Honeymoon Hack
“This is difficult with only two hands.” I began disconnecting the damaged cables, my movements deliberately slow and careful. “You could help me speed this up.”
“You think I’m stupid enough to stand close to you?”
I’d hoped, yes. He was bigger than me, trained in delivering death, and holding an M4. However, he was also desperate, and desperate people often made mistakes.
“Then it takes fifteen minutes.” I grabbed a roll of fiber-optic cable from the crash cart. “Your choice.”
He moved about ten feet down the server row, positioning himself to watch both me and Brie. This wasn’t some random thug—this was someone who knew what he was doing.
Which made him infinitely more dangerous.
I worked slowly, deliberately drawing it out while also examining the blocks of C-4 he’d attached to the servers in the rack. One lined the front of the Orchid server, while others stretched up and down along the other servers. Detcord connected all of them, with a detonator at the end.
“Planning to blow the whole area?” I asked, trying to sound casual while panic splintered inside me.
“Shut up and work.”
But he didn’t deny it. Which meant that when this upload finished, he intended to destroy all the evidence, including us.
I kept working, asking him to hand me tools from the cart—crimpers, cable testers, spare connectors. Small things that required him to move, to look away from Brie for seconds at a time. Building whatever minimal trust I could while searching for an opening.
The repair was actually simple—fifteen minutes had been generous. But every extra second was one more for Rav and the Pendragon team to get into position.
“Try it now.”
Brie nodded and went back to typing. I couldn’t hear the sound in the room, but could in my memory. How many times had I just sat and appreciated the rhythm of her fingers on her keyboard?
“Oh, thank fuck,” said Brie. “It’s working.”
I gripped the Orchid server on either side and began to push it back on its slides.
The indicator light above the Orchid server changed from blue to red. That was the signal I’d told Claire to use. Pendragon was in position.
Thank all the powers that be.
“Why did the light change?” Lark asked, moving closer to examine it. To Brie, he hollered, “You told me to watch for lights onthisserver. Why’s the one above it changing color?”
My mouth went dry. If he figured out what it meant—if he realized the cavalry was coming—he’d start shooting.
“Must have jostled something when I was working.” I reached for the server cleaning solvent on my cart—industrialdegreaser in a pressurized canister. The weight was solid in my hand, reassuring. “Maintenance will fix it later.”
If there is a later.
Lark was still looking at the light, his brow furrowed in concentration. He knew something was wrong. In another few seconds, he’d figure out what.
I thought about my mother’s last clear day, when she’d looked at me with recognition and told me how proud she was. About Brie’s face when she’d whispered she loved me. About all the tomorrows we’d never see if I didn’t move right now.
So I moved.
The chemical stream from my degreaser hit him in the face before he could react. He screamed, a raw sound of shock and pain, letting go of the rifle as he clawed at his burning eyes. The weapon fell against his chest on its strap, and I lunged for it before he recovered.
He was blinded and choking on the chemicals, but the rifle was still attached to him. I couldn’t take it, but I could keep him from using it. My hands closed around the barrel as his fingers found the grip again.
“Brie, run!” I shouted, putting everything I had into those two words. All my strength, all my love, all my need for her to live even if I didn’t.
Because that’s what mattered. Not the mission, not the upload, not my own life.
Just her. Always her.
