CYRENE TEMPEST

  t's been four days since Lucian handed me the new NDA. Four days since he laid out the terms—terms I didn't mind, except for one: I had to perform the routine sweeps myself. Twice a week. I wasn't thrilled about it, but I understood why. It's a confidential case, and I didn't exactly get to argue my way out of it, especially when the King's server was involved.

  The thing is, I didn't even know whose server I'd upgraded until there was an attempt to breach it. The attempted hack revealed it was his. Of course, it made sense now why everything was so tight, why everything had been handled with such care. The realization made me tense.

  Monday mornings had always been hard for me. It wasn't the workload; it was the weight of everything piling up. I didn't mind the work itself, but it felt like there was always something new to fight through, and today was no different.

  I chose my clothes with precision—a grey palazzo corporate pants that hugged in all the right places and a black body-con turtleneck top. Bottega heels. I wanted to keep it understated but sharp. I grabbed my encrypted wallet tab and laptop and tucked them into my bag. My hair was pinned into a low bun, practical, sleek. Today, I drove my Velar. It felt like a statement.

  When I pulled up to the building, the usual anonymity greeted me. No one looked twice. I did my best to blend in, to not draw attention. After all, it made it easier to disappear into the walls when I needed to.

  The server room greeted me with its familiar hum. I settled into my task quickly. The screens, the codes, the constant vigilance. There was no room for distraction. I worked through the updates, sorted out the minor bugs, reinforced the firewalls—making sure the system was tight for the next three days. I wouldn't be here again until Friday. My schedule was packed, and I knew I needed to keep everything secure.

  It was 11:42 when I pulled into Castellan Steelworks' underground lot.

  The building rose like it knew it had something to prove—black reflective glass, a fortress of steel and ambition. The kind of place that didn't just house power. It made you feel it. Every inch of it was curated to command respect. Or compliance. Depends on who's walking through the front doors.

  I parked in one of the visitor spots, cut the engine, and exhaled.

  I grabbed my bag—encrypted tab, backup drive, collapsible signal jammer—and stepped out, heels clicking clean against polished cement.

  Because being here, doing this, was already bending me in directions I didn't like.

  I pushed through the glass doors of Castellan Steelworks and entered the main reception.

  Modern. Quiet. Industrial chic.

  A woman at the front desk looked up as I approached, straightening with that slight tension of someone trained to smile without breaking confidentiality.

  "Good morning. Welcome to Castellan Steelworks."

  "CipherWorks," I said crisply. "Here for a scheduled audit sweep."

  Her fingers paused over the keyboard. "One moment."

  I let her search while I kept still, scanning the space. Minimal cameras visible. Meaning the real surveillance was deeper, woven into the walls and biometric points. It was well-done. But I'd seen better. Built better.

  "You're cleared. You're expected on the 30th floor." She handed me a visitor access badge.

  I nodded once, not smiling. "Thank you."

  The elevator was black steel, reflective enough to remind you how composed you looked—until you saw the flicker behind your own eyes.

  As I waited, I thought back to the prep I'd done the night before. I didn't walk into places blind.

  Castellan Steelworks had a tight staff, loyal and discreet. I did a full sweep on everyone with access to internal systems—top to bottom. From the receptionist down to the floor techs and his executive team. No red flags, just one recurring detail: a strange consistency in behavioral logs around Lucian's assistant, Elena Cortez.

  Her profile was immaculate. Overqualified. Impeccably discreet. But her search patterns, device proximity overlaps, access times—they didn't match the expected professional boundary.

  The deeper I went, the clearer it was: she was obsessed with him.

  Not overt. Nothing actionable. But obsessive enough to raise a different kind of caution.

  It irritated me.

  Not because it was unprofessional. But because I didn't know why it bothered me.

  I told myself it was the breach risk. The possibility of compromised objectivity around sensitive information. That was a clean explanation. Logical.

  But it didn't feel clean.

  The elevator opened to the 30th floor. I stepped into muted lighting and silence.

  Industrial elegance here too—dark wood, stone floors, minimal clutter. As I moved forward, voices filtered through from the hallway, light and conversational.

  I followed the sound. At the end of the corridor, a glass double-door office stood slightly ajar. A woman's voice floated out—measured, clear, efficient.

  Had to be her.

  Elena Cortez.

  She sounded composed. That kind of cool tone people used to hide the heat under it. Controlled affection wrapped in professionalism. I'd heard it before. In boardrooms. At tech summits. From women who wanted to matter more than they did.

  I paused just before the threshold. Raised my hand to knock.

  "Elena," the intercom buzzed softly, interrupting her, "CipherWorks is here."

  As I stepped into the room, the first thing I noticed was the way the air seemed to thicken with tension. Lucian, Rafael, Dante, Arlo, and Xander were all seated around the conference table. Their eyes immediately fell on me, assessing, but I kept my expression neutral, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch or even acknowledge the weight of their stares.

  They were trying to intimidate me—I could feel it, the subtle power play in the room. There was an unspoken challenge in the air, one that I didn't quite care to engage with, but that didn't mean I'd back down. Instead, I met their gazes, my eyes dancing with a quiet amusement. They couldn't expect me to cower, could they?

  "Well," I said, breaking the silence with a perfectly measured tone, "good afternoon. Where's the server room?"

  I didn't need any formality. Not with these men. I came here to do a job. Nothing more. My straightforwardness seemed to stun them. I could feel their surprise, especially from Xander, whose brows were slightly furrowed. The others remained tight-lipped, though the slight shift in their posture gave them away. They had expected me to bend to the power dynamics of this room. Too bad for them.

  Lucian pointed to the chair in front of him, offering me a seat. "Please, have a seat," he said, his voice smooth, his eyes unreadable.

  I ignored the chair for a moment, letting the tension in the room build, making them squirm. They didn't expect this. I wasn't here to please anyone. I took my time, walking across the room, my heels clicking with an assertiveness that added to the silence. Then, when I finally sat, I allowed them to feel the full weight of my indifference.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  I could practically feel the irritation radiating off them. It didn't matter—this was a game I'd play on my own terms.

  The conversation that followed was predictable—briefing me on what needed to be done. I gave each of them a cursory glance, though I had already done my homework on all of them. The information I'd uncovered made it easier to read their body language, their underlying thoughts. And in that moment, I could sense that they were still trying to figure out how I fit into their puzzle.

  But then came Xander.

  He wasn't exactly what I'd call a challenge, but I liked to test him. I could feel the snide remark building inside him. He wasn't happy with the way I had downplayed the entire power struggle in the room, so when he finally spoke, his voice carried a bite.

  "Are you sure you're in the right place?" Xander asked, an eyebrow raised, a sarcastic edge to his tone. "You're not exactly dressed for fieldwork."

  I didn't flinch. In fact, I leaned back slightly in my chair, enjoying the slight shift in the atmosphere as they all awaited my response.

  "You're right," I said smoothly, my eyes never leaving his. "I'm not here to do your dirty work, Xander. I'm here to make sure things run smoothly. Something you and your team have yet to master."

  The slight dig in my voice wasn't lost on him. He opened his mouth, probably to counter with some clever remark, but I didn't let him. I was already prepared for this. With a casual flick of my wrist, I placed a hand on the edge of the table, leaning forward just slightly.

  "I'm sure you could've handled it yourself if you hadn't been so distracted with other things," I continued, my voice steady. "But, well, here I am. Doing what you couldn't."

  A flicker of annoyance crossed Xander's face, but he held it back. His gaze flicked to the others, expecting some backup. It didn't come. He was on his own. I could see the frustration in his jaw clenching before he finally sighed.

  "Fine," he muttered, clearly not happy, but defeated. "Just don't break anything."

  I allowed myself a small smirk at his reluctant concession. I knew he wouldn't be happy with the fact that I was taking over his responsibilities. But that was just the way things worked here. People didn't just get what they wanted. They had to earn it.

  "We wouldn't want that, now would we?" I said, my tone laced with a quiet challenge.

  Xander made a sharp motion with his hand, as if to dismiss me, but I wasn't finished. I had more important things to focus on than his wounded pride.

  As I stood to leave, I turned my head just enough to catch Lucian's gaze. There was a moment of silent understanding between us. He knew exactly what I was doing—how I was playing the room. He didn't need me to do his bidding, and yet, here I was, asserting my presence. And I wasn't backing down. Not now. Not ever.

  I moved toward the door, the tension in the room still palpable, but I didn't care. I was getting the job done. I didn't need to prove anything more.

  As I reached for the door, I heard Xander mutter something under his breath, probably a last-ditch effort to regain some sense of control. But I didn't acknowledge it. Let him stew. It was no skin off my back.

  I stepped out of the room, my heels clicking on the polished floor, my mind already on the task ahead. But as I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a small satisfaction. I had left my mark—without even trying.

  And as for Xander? Well, it seemed that today, I had won.

  The door to Lucian's office closed behind me, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being under scrutiny. The air in the hallway felt heavier now, each step I took echoing in the polished silence. Elena stood beside the open door, waiting as though she knew the exact moment I'd emerge. She was, after all, a professional. Efficient.

  I gave her a nod, but my mind was already elsewhere. The server room was what I was here for, not the subtle games of power that pulsed behind the glass walls of Lucian's office.

  "Right this way," Elena said, her voice smooth and controlled, as she motioned for me to follow.

  I followed her through the hallway, my eyes scanning every inch of the space as we walked. I knew who worked here. I'd seen their files, memorized their roles. I knew their strengths and weaknesses. I wasn't walking in blind.

  Elena's movements were swift and purposeful, but there was something in the way she held herself—something almost deferential, as if she were constantly aware of the hierarchy surrounding her. I had already read the files on her the night before, and I didn't miss the little telltale signs of her attraction to Lucian. It was subtle, well-hidden beneath layers of professionalism, but it was there. And it irritated me more than I cared to admit.

  But I wasn't here for that. I wasn't here to judge her. I was here to do my job.

  The door to the server room loomed ahead, sleek and understated, much like everything else in this place. Elena stopped in front of it and gave me a polite nod, as if to say, This is it.

  She pressed her hand to the door, and it slid open with a soft hum. Inside, the room was exactly as I had expected—modern, sterile, and meticulously organized. The servers lined the walls, each one glowing with a quiet intensity. The air was cool, the hum of machines filling the silence.

  "I'll leave you to it," Elena said, her voice polite but almost distant, like she didn't want to linger.

  I gave her a brief nod in acknowledgment before I stepped inside the room, setting my equipment down on the nearby table. The moment the door closed behind her, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

  This was where the real work began.

  I powered up the system, checking the connections, running a few initial diagnostics. Everything seemed fine on the surface. The servers were pristine, top-of-the-line, with no sign of anything out of the ordinary. But I knew better than to trust appearances.

  I began digging deeper, running tests on the system's security and scanning for any irregularities.

  And that's when I found it.

  There was a breach. A subtle, almost undetectable one, buried deep in the server's encrypted logs. Whoever had put this in place was good—too good. They knew how to cover their tracks, how to hide things in plain sight. But I wasn't here for surface-level scans. I wasn't here to patch up the obvious problems. I was here to find everything.

  I paused for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. A sense of unease curled in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't just a breach—it was a sophisticated surveillance system, designed to monitor everything within the company. And whoever had set it up had done so with a level of care that made my skin crawl.

  I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I ran another scan. The log files were encrypted with a complex code, but I was confident I could crack it. The real question was: Why was this hidden within the company's system? And who, exactly, was watching?

  As the system processed, I thought about the people I had encountered today—Lucian, with his sharp eyes and commanding presence, Rafael, with his quiet confidence, and Xander, with his well-practiced arrogance. Any one of them could be behind this.

  But I wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Not yet. I needed more information.

  Deeper dive needed on the system. I'll update soon.

  I had to finish this, no matter how deep it went. There was something wrong here, something I wasn't seeing. And I needed to get to the bottom of it.

  But before I could proceed, a knock at the door broke my concentration.

  "Cyrene," Elena's voice floated through the door. "Everything alright in there?"

  I took a steadying breath. It was always the same. I was always aware of how much I let slip—how much I revealed to those around me. There was a sense of vulnerability whenever I worked, even though I was sure no one could see it.

  "I'm fine," I called out, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. "Just finishing up."

  There was a slight pause, then her voice came back, softer this time. "Lucian asked if you could meet him before you leave."

  I felt a flicker of annoyance at the interruption, but I didn't let it show. "Tell him I'll be a few minutes."

  The buzz of activity in the hallway faded as I returned my attention to the system. The breach was far worse than I had anticipated. Whoever was responsible for this had done their homework, and they'd clearly made a significant effort to cover their tracks.

  I had to act fast, but I also had to be careful. Whoever was watching wasn't just looking for a quick glance at what I was doing. No, this was deliberate. This was calculated.

  I sat back, letting out a slow breath, and then I reached for the communication device in my pocket. It was time to escalate this to CipherWorks. I'd have to get Lucian out of the loop for now, at least until I had more to show.

  But the thought of leaving the server room—of walking out before I had all the answers—nagged at me. I wasn't one to leave things unfinished.

  But I knew better than to push too far. If Lucian wanted to meet, I would meet.

  I shut down the terminal and walked to the door. As I stepped out of the server room, I caught sight of Elena again, standing just outside, waiting patiently.

  Her eyes flickered to mine, and I wondered if she could sense the shift in the air. But she said nothing, only gesturing toward the elevator. I followed her without a word.

  We made our way down to the ground floor in silence, the quiet tension between us thickening with every step.

  When we reached the lobby, I could feel eyes on me, but I ignored them, focusing only on the task at hand. This was business, nothing more.

  I stepped into the small café near the building, already making my mind up. I would speak to Lucian, but I wouldn't share everything—not yet. Not until I had more. Until then, I would play my part.

  The café was a quaint, dimly lit establishment nestled on a quiet street corner. Its rustic charm and ambient noise provided the perfect cover for a discreet conversation. Cyrene and Lucian settled into a secluded booth at the back, away from the few patrons scattered throughout the room.

  As they sat, Cyrene reached into her bag and subtly retrieved a compact device resembling a hammer. With practiced ease, she activated it, emitting a low-frequency signal designed to disrupt any nearby recording equipment. The device, a portable anti-recording jammer, ensured their conversation would remain private.

  Lucian raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on the device.

  “Precaution,” Cyrene said, her tone matter-of-fact.

  He nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation.

  “I’ve found something concerning,” I said, leaning slightly across the table, voice pitched low. “I don’t say that lightly.”

  Lucian’s gaze sharpened. He didn’t interrupt. Good.

  I continued, keeping my expression unreadable. “There’s a hidden directory in your server. Deeply embedded, obscured beneath layers of junk code—someone took their time to make it look like digital noise. They’ve been accessing encrypted surveillance feeds. Internal meetings. Conversations held in confidence. Not recently—this has been ongoing.”

  A flicker of movement crossed his features, too brief to pin down.

  “This isn’t a breach from the outside,” I said. “It’s someone close. Someone with steady access. Possibly long-term. They’re watching you.”

  The silence between us was weighted.

  Lucian’s voice came cool, clipped. “And you’re certain?”

  “I don’t bring assumptions to a job,” I replied. “I checked the logs. Traced the hidden timestamps, decrypted partial logs. It’s clean, methodical, and buried beneath legitimate company functions. Whoever did this knows your systems intimately.”

  He leaned back, fingers tented, jaw tight with consideration.

  I didn’t wait for him to catch up.

  “I need names.”

  His brows lifted a fraction.

  “I’m not asking you to betray anyone,” I said before he could question it. “But if I’m going to shut this down properly, I need to understand the landscape. Who has long-term access, both inside and outside the company? I need to know who you keep close—especially the ones you have… reservations about.”

  There. Direct, clinical. No emotional strings. Just the truth, delivered with the detachment of someone who’s had to cut deep before.

  His gaze didn’t waver, but I knew he was calculating. Measuring every angle.

  “You think it’s someone in my circle?” he asked.

  “I think it’s someone you didn’t want to believe was capable,” I said. “But belief doesn’t matter. Patterns do. I’m not here to accuse. I’m here to eliminate the threat. For that, I need all the pieces.”

  Lucian didn’t answer right away. A subtle tension lined his frame—a man used to being in control, suddenly facing an invisible hand inside his fortress.

  After a pause, he gave a short nod. “I’ll get back to you.”

  No promise. Just controlled agreement. A wall raised.

  But it was enough—for now.