Page 73 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“You can view any camera from here?” she asks.

“Any camera, any time. Live feeds or archived footage going back six months.” I move to the main console and wake up the system. The screens flicker to life, displaying a grid of feeds from throughout Synthera. “Nathan’s team monitors the live feeds during the day, but the archives are accessible anytime.”

Sophie settles into the middle chair, her fingers already moving to the keyboard. Max pulls up a chair to her right, while I take the one on her left.

Within seconds, she’s navigating the system like she’s been using it for years.

“Show me the exterior cameras first,” she says. “All angles.”

I reach over and tap a few keys, bringing up a grid of exterior feeds—the main entrance, the side doors, the loading dock, the perimeter fence. Sophie leans forward, her eyes scanning each one with that intense focus I’m starting to recognize.

“These two,” she says, pointing at two cameras covering the east side of the building. “What’s the overlap?”

Max leans in, studying the feeds. “Nathan adjusted them after the break-in. That’s where they got in. There was a blind spot between the two sensors, and the window they cut through sat right inside it.”

Sophie pulls up a schematic of the camera placements and overlays it with the actual footage, comparing angles. After a moment she nods slowly. “He did a good job. It’s covered now.”

She keeps scanning methodically, moving through the exterior feeds one by one. Then she stills.

“Here.” She pulls up the west side of the building. “The service entrance by the loading dock. There’s a window partially hidden by the overhang.”

She zooms in, tracing the angle of the nearest camera.

“This camera is pointed at the loading dock doors, but the angle doesn’t capture that window at all.” She taps the screen. “Someone could get through that window and into the building completely unseen.”

“That window leads to a storage room,” I say, frowning. “It’s rarely used.”

“Which makes it perfect.” Sophie taps the frozen frame. “This is how they could get in next time, if they realize the first route is compromised.”

Max is quiet for a second. “Nathan never flagged this.”

“Nathan was looking for obvious vulnerabilities. Doors, main windows, access points.” Sophie’s voice is matter-of-fact. “He wasn’t thinking like someone who’d use a loading dock overhang as cover.”

She continues her review, cycling through the interior cameras methodically. Max and I watch in silence, occasionally leaning in to point out a feature or answer a question about the building layout. She flags two more minor blind spots—one in the stairwell, one near the server room on the third floor. Each one is small, almost negligible. But even one is too many.

“How could they have known?” Max says, his voice tight. “They knew exactly where the gap was.”

“Someone must’ve told them.” Sophie sits back, her expression grim. “Someone with access to your security cameras.”

The thought makes me feel sick. It could be Nathan, Victor, anyone on the security team with access to almost every camera in Synthera.

“How hard would they be to fix?” I ask.

“Easy enough. Adjust the angles on these three cameras”—she points to each one in turn—“and add one additional unit here. That should eliminate the gaps entirely.”

“I’ll talk to Nathan tomorrow,” Max says.

Sophie nods, but there’s something troubled in her expression. “The question is whether you tell him why. If he’s involved, alerting him to the changes could tip him off. If he’s not...” She trails off.

“If he’s not, we’re insulting a loyal employee by keeping him in the dark,” I finish.

“Exactly.”

We’re all silent for a moment. On the screens, the Synthera staff goes about its evening routine—cleaning staff moving through empty corridors, security guards making their rounds, the last few researchers heading home for the night.

Somewhere in that building is a traitor. Someone who sold us out, who nearly destroyed everything we’ve worked for. And we still don’t know who.

Sophie pushes back from the desk and stands, rolling her shoulders like she’s working out a kink.