Page 7 of The Devil's Daughter

Boring, but it seems the cameras are motion-activated, so he should be present in all the shots. Hmm, I wonder where the feed showinghisbathroom is.

I click back out, referring to the live feed for the codes each room is tagged with. A few of the views that were live before have disappeared, probably because they’re not actively recording if there’s been no activity for a minute or so. I know Baz and Ben do a check of every door and window whenever we enter the penthouse, so that explains why I could see so many more rooms earlier. But the twins’ rooms are still there, so I make note of the code for each one, then watch for a moment. Baz is seated at the desk in one corner of his room, talking on the phone while he stares at his laptop, clicking with his mouse.

Ben is doing pull-ups from a bar he installed in his bathroom doorway. Doesn’t he know Drake has a full gym right down the hall?

But as I watch the pair, it hits me howoffthis all is. Why would they put such invasive tech in their own rooms if all they cared about was watching over me?

A chill creeps in at that revelation, and I’m staring at the screen with an increasing sense of dread when a sudden barrage of heavy footsteps thunders down the hall, followed by banging on my door that startles me so much I squeak.

“Elle! You need to stop what you’re doing! That camera’s not what you think! Unlock the door!”

It’s Drake, which means he must have seen the video.

I scramble up and run to the door, propelled by my realization, though I’m not sure what to say or even how to face him. What the fuck was I thinking?

When I open the door, he shoves in without a word. The big blob of tape I stuck to the camera is plain as day, but rather than grab the camera, he rips the whole thermostat assembly off the wall, leaving loose wires hanging in its place.

Baz and Ben step in right behind him, looking alarmed.

“What the hell?” Ben says.

“It’s a fucking camera!”

“Wait!” Baz grabs Drake’s arm just as he drops the offending contraption to the floor and lifts his foot to grind it under his heel. “Don’t destroy it! We can use it to figure out who put it here in the first place.”

“So it wasn’t you?” Drake asks, his face red with rage, though he steps back and lets Baz bend to retrieve the busted bundle of wires and plastic.

Baz blinks. “Fuck no! I’m not some kind of peeping tom perv.”

“How didyouknow it was here?” Ben challenges.

“Oh my god. Please tell me itwasone of you that put it there,” I say, even though I’ve already concluded that it isn’t and their exchange only confirms it.

All three of them turn to me. I’ve dropped back down to the edge of the bed, too terrified to stand. I feel ill, not because of my stupid dance, but because it likely reached a very unintended audience.

“Why would you think that?” Baz asks, sounding hurt.

“Because it’s yourjob?”

“Ellie, keeping you safe doesn’t require spying on you. I can’t believe you’d think that.”

I cast one last hopeful glance at Ben, who holds up his hands and shakes his head. “It wasn’t me, either.” He spears Drake with a hard look. “But you haven’t answered my question. How the fuck did you figure out it was here when her door was fuckinglocked?”

“You were watching, weren’t you?” I ask. “But I don’t understand. If you knew, why wait to take it outnow? It’s been there since I moved in, I think. Longer, even. They’re all over the penthouse. There’s one in my bathroom too.”

Drake winces. “I was, ah, just checking in on your work. You’re using a Typhon laptop. I have software installed on all the Typhon machines that lets me track employee activity. I didn’t have access to those cameras, though. I only saw what I did because that’s whatyouwere looking at.” He gestures at my forgotten laptop.

Baz strides over and grabs it, turning it to peer at the screen. “You hacked the security feed. But that’s not all you tapped into here. What the fuck is all this?”

“You were spying on mywork?” I ask Drake, baffled and a little hurt that he’d be monitoring my job performance in some way. I should probably care more about him watching me undress, but I don’t.

“Don’t fucking start,” he snaps. “Youhacked my whole goddamn network and were digging for dirt onme. I don’t know what that little striptease was meant to accomplish, though.” He waves a hand at my body. His gaze sweeps down the length of me, and I’m suddenly painfully aware of the fact that I’m not wearing pants.

I blink and open my mouth, but can’t find an appropriate response. He has me dead to rights, but I still feel likeI’mthe one who should be pissed.

There’s a more pressing concern here, though. Glancing between him and the twins, I say, “Are you guys even paying attention? If none of you were watching,who was?”

“Oh, he was definitely watching,” Ben says, rounding on Drake and baring his teeth. “Weren’t you? Why else would you show up to her door with a fucking boner? Doesn’t fucking matter what she was doing in her own room,pendejo—it’s whatyoudid that matters. I don’t care who put it there,youwatched. You’re the guilty one.”

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