Page 17 of Peak’s Code

"We weren't looking for traffickers."

"What were you looking for?"

"Credit card fraud,” she breathed.

He blinked over at her. "Seriously?"

She laughed once. "It started as a side project, but then we found patterns."

"What kind of patterns?" he asked.

"The same cryptocurrency wallets, the same shipping companies, and the same escrow accounts. They kept overlapping."

Peak's mind immediately started connecting the dots. "So the fraud funded trafficking."

She nodded. "Among other things."

"What else did it fund?” he asked.

"Weapons, counterfeit pharmaceuticals, money laundering." She swallowed. "And political bribery."

Peak stared at her. "Jesus."

"We stumbled into something enormous, and now, they seem to want me to disappear,” she said. He didn’t tell her that there was no way that he’d allow that to happen, but he wouldn’t. His hacker instincts were screaming now. He wanted data. Hell, he wanted evidence to prove that she was right.

"Where's the crawler now?" he asked.

Maeve smiled sadly. "Gone."

"You deleted it?" he guessed.

"I destroyed everything—at least, I thought I did."

Peak frowned. "You missed something."

She looked away. "Wren kept a backup."

His stomach dropped. "Please tell me she didn't put it online."

"No, she was foolish, but she’s not stupid,” Maeve insisted.

"Where is the copy?" he asked.

"I don't know."

Peak closed his eyes. "That's what they're after."

She nodded. "They must think I have it."

"Do you have it, Maeve?" he asked.

"I wish I did," she admitted. “But only my sister can tell us where it is now.”

He stood and resumed walking through the tunnel. The silence between them felt different now. He understood the battlefield. This wasn't just about rescuing Wren. It wasn't even just about trafficking anymore. Someone wanted data buried—permanently. He suddenly understood why the attack on the clubhouse had happened so quickly. It wasn’t because the Grave Prowlers had captured Maeve. It was because someone was monitoring her.

He stopped walking. "So—” He looked over at her. "How'd they find you?" Maeve didn't answer immediately. Instead, she reached into the inside pocket of her leather jacket, and Peak tensed.

"It's not a weapon,” she insisted. She slowly pulled out a flip phone. It was old and scratched up. From the look of it, it had to be at least fifteen years out of date.