Page 16 of Peak’s Code

"We don't know for sure," Captain said. "But they know something’s down there."

Another burst of gunfire echoed over the phone. Captain shouted an order to someone and then came back. "Whatever you do, don't surface." The line went dead, and Peak slowly lowered the phone. Maeve had gone completely still.

"They have thermal drones?" she asked. He nodded, and her face lost all color.

"No,” she breathed. “That can’t be.”

"What can’t be?" Peak asked.

Her voice was barely audible. "The Iron Serpents don't use drones."

Peak frowned. "Then who does?"

She looked at him with genuine fear for the first time since he'd met her. "Private military contractors." The realization slammed into him. These weren't bikers that they were dealing with; they weren't traffickers with guns. Someone had hired professionals with military equipment, who expected to kill everyone inside the Grave Prowlers clubhouse.

Peak looked back at the way they'd come and then toward the darkness ahead. He'd spent years avoiding becoming the club's hacker because he didn't want to be dragged into wars that weren't his. Now one had found him anyway, and it was far bigger than a rival motorcycle club.

Private military contractors. The words echoed through Peak's head long after the call with Captain ended. He stared into the darkness ahead, his flashlight illuminating the narrow brick tunnel that stretched beneath the marshland.

This wasn't some outlaw club trying to muscle into Grave Prowlers territory. This wasn't a couple of traffickers with stolen rifles. This was organized and professionally funded. Someone spent a hell of a lot of money to silence one woman. That alone told him Maeve wasn't exaggerating. If anything, she'd been understating the danger.

He looked over at her. She was pale, but her breathing had steadied. The panic had disappeared almost as quickly as it'd come. She was thinking and calculating their next move, just like he was.

"Talk to me,” he breathed.

She met his eyes. "They're adapting."

"Meaning?" he asked.

"They've escalated the mission,” she whispered.

"Because of you?" he asked. “Why would they go through all this trouble to silence one woman?”

She shook her head. "Because of what I found."

Peak folded his arms. "I think it's time you stopped giving me half the story."

Maeve remained quiet. Not because she didn't want to answer, but because she was deciding how much she could trust him. Peak recognized that look. He'd worn it himself plenty of times.

Finally, she nodded as though silently agreeing with herself. "Okay." She leaned against the damp brick wall. "My sister and I built something."

"What did you build?" he asked.

"A crawler."

Peak's eyebrows rose. "A web crawler?"

She nodded. "It searched darknet marketplaces." Now she had his complete attention. "It indexed seller accounts, wallet addresses, escrow transactions, and shipping routes."

Peak whistled softly. "That's ambitious."

"It worked,” Maeve said as though defending her project.

"I can see that. I don’t think that the government would be starting a war over you otherwise,” he said.

"No." She shook her head. "You don't understand. It worked too well."

Peak crouched on the damp floor. "How about you explain it to me then?" he asked.