Instead of a bank ledger, a graphic appears.
Code. Glowing green characters. But right in the middle, an image pulses.
A vine.
A digital animation of a climbing ivy plant. Tendrils coil through the binary, strangling the scrolling green lines, leaf by leaf. It spreads across the screen, locking the files down. The ivy proliferates, throttling the code with methodical patience.
“What’s that?” Iris squints at the screen.
“A signature.” Cipher glares at the graphic. “Someone is in the system.”
“The Consortium?” Rook asks.
“No.” Cipher shakes his head. “This isn’t corporate security. It’s stylistic. An independent hacker, no corporate allegiance.” He types furiously. “Whoever this is, they’re better than good. They aren’t just blocking me. They’re taunting me. Look at the timestamp.”
He highlights a line of data.
09:00:00
“They breached the Cyprus server three minutes before I did. Locked the door from the inside and swallowed the key.”
“Can you break it?” Hutch watches the screen.
Cipher stops typing. He stares at the digital ivy on the screen. His gaze narrows. A man discovering a worthy opponent after years playing solitaire.
“Ivy.” He leans closer to the monitor. “Clings. Spreads. Chokes.” A sharp, dangerous grin splits his face. “Yeah. I can break it. But I have to find her first.”
“Her?” Bronco asks.
“Coding syntax.” Cipher’s fingers drum on the desk. “Elegant. Vicious, but elegant. This isn’t a script kiddie. This is a chaos agent.”
“Find her.” Hutch taps the console. “If she has the keys to the money, she has the keys to the kingdom. We need her assets.”
“Oh, I’ll find her.” Cipher spins back to his keyboard. “And then I’m dismantling her firewall brick by brick.”
Hutch turns back to the map.
“We have our directives. Wraith, Rook, start building the tactical profile for Malta. Bronco, prep the transport logistics. Cipher, hunt the ghost.”
“What about us?” I lean forward.
Hutch looks at me. Then at Iris.
“You’re still on the injured list. And Dr. Kincaid is a civilian.”
“I’m not a civilian.” Iris lifts her chin. “Not anymore.”
A rare smile crosses Hutch’s face, softening the hard angles of his jaw.
“No. I suppose you aren’t. But you’re a witness. Right now, you’re the only proof we have that any of this is real. Until we secure the Malta hub, you two stay grounded.”
“Grounded,” I repeat the word flatly.
“Safe house protocol.” Hutch checks his monitor. “You stay here. Keep the home fires burning. Help Rook with the profiling, but don’t leave the perimeter. We can’t afford to lose you.”
He turns his gaze directly to me.
“Take the win. You got the girl. Take a breath before the next war starts.” He claps his hands. “Briefing adjourned. Get to work.”
