Page 105 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
The world falls away as hyper-focus takes over. Everything beyond my screens blurs into background noise. My fingers move faster, typing commands while my eyes dart between displays, spotting patterns others would miss.
"Wait, wait, wait." I lean closer to the left monitor, squinting at a familiar sequence. "That's not right."
I'm vaguely aware of Asher moving behind me, setting something down beside my keyboard. The rich scent of coffee wafts up, but I barely notice.
"Something's off. This has Slate's bones but someone else's fingerprints." I pull up comparison windows, running what I know of Slate's code patterns against Vertex's systems. Matches light up across the screen. Too many to be coincidence, but not enough to be certain.
Asher leans against the desk beside me, watching silently. His presence is steady, grounding.
"Look at this authentication chain." I point to a complex sequence. "This structure is so Slate - these nested validations, the way they cascade? It's like his signature." My stomach twists as the evidence mounts.
"But here and here?" I highlight sections with jarring differences. "The implementation is all wrong. Sloppy. Aggressive."
I pull my knees up to my chest, perching on the chair as I work. The connections form in my brain faster than I can explain them.
"It's like someone took his blueprint but built it differently." I drag my hands through my hair.
"The core logic is like his work, the way these protocols stack, how the encryption keys are generated. But these implementation details..." I shake my head violently.
The coffee Asher brought sits untouched as I dive deeper, tracing the architecture back to its foundations. Each discovery feels like another knife in my chest.
"Slate would never write code this messy in these sections. It's almost like..." My voice trails off as a disturbing possibility forms. My hands hover above the keyboard, suddenly still after hours of constant motion.
Then I see it—the pattern hidden within the errors. Not random mistakes, but deliberate variations. My breath catches in my throat as the final piece clicks into place.
"Someone's using his framework but corrupting it on purpose," I whisper. The implications hit me all at once. My hands begin to shake slightly as I finally stop typing.
Asher moves behind me, his presence solid as the truth crystallizes on my screens.
"What does it mean?" he asks quietly, though the dangerous implications hang unspoken between us.
The fog presses against the windows like a warning, sealing us in with a truth I'm not ready to face.
twenty-seven
Asher
"Winchester Gala. Three hundred and fifty-seven guests. Two hundred eighty-four staff. Sixty-seven security." I trace the holographic perimeter, calculating angles and sightlines. "Four primary exits, two service corridors."
The blue light illuminates my team around the planning table. Cole stands across from me, analytical gaze mirroring my focus. Kade commands the head position, arms crossed, massive frame casting shadows. Jax shifts from foot to foot; perpetual motion even during briefings.
And Vanessa.
She practically vibrates with kinetic energy beside me, small frame leaning forward as dark eyes dart across the holographic display. Her fingers twitch, as if typing on invisible keyboards. When she moves for a better view, her shoulder brushes mine.
I don't adjust my position.
"Security grid looks impressive," Kade says, rotating the hologram. "But practical vulnerabilities—"
"Oh! I'm already in!" Vanessa bounces forward, hands flying over display controls.
"So their digital security has like three redundancies, right? But here's the thing, they all route through the same physical server room, which is totally amateur hour when you think about it because—" She pauses mid-ramble, expanding part of the layout. "Here! Right here, off the east corridor."
My eyebrow raises slightly. Not surprised by success. I expected that. Surprised by the speed.
"How deep?" Cole asks, professional interest clear.
"Full access to everything! CCTV feeds, guest list database, staff schedules, internal communications network—the works!" That mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Their system administrator literally uses 'Fluffy2019' as part of his password. His dog's name plus the year he got hired. I mean, come on, it's like they want to be hacked."
