Page 104 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"Speaking of trust," I lean forward, forcing a lightness into my tone, "you've been pretty scarce lately. Got something keeping you busy? Or someone?"
The question catches him off guard. A flush creeps up his neck—something I've never seen before in years of knowing him. He adjusts his glasses nervously.
"Just projects. You know how it is." He clears his throat. "Send me those files."
I end the call with promises to send more data, but my hand trembles as I disconnect. The screen goes dark, reflecting my troubled expression back at me.
"He's hiding something," my voice falters, betrayal crushing my ribs like concrete blocks.
I bolt to the kitchen, my socks sliding on the hardwood as I round the corner. The fog has thickened further, turning the windows into opaque gray barriers. I'm trapped, caged withsuspicions I don't want to face. I grab a mug and slam it down on the counter.
"This is—" I can't even finish my sentence, my hands shaking as I reach for the coffee machine.
Asher appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching me with that sniper's stillness that used to unnerve me. Now it's almost comforting, the one steady thing in a world that's suddenly tilted sideways.
"Talk to me."
I pace the length of the kitchen, my thoughts ricocheting like bullets.
"He believed in me when nobody else did. After MIT, when everyone thought I'd thrown my life away, Slate saw what I could do." My voice catches as I turn to face Asher. "Between him and Maya, I found somewhere I belonged."
My heartbeat drums in my ears as I yank open a cabinet, close it, open another. I don't even know what I'm looking for.
"How long have you known him?" Asher's voice remains measured, controlled.
"Five years." I drag my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. "He found me when I was doing small-time security testing. His eyes caught something special in me. That's what he told me back then. Took me under his wing."
The memory of late nights hunched over keyboards floods back. Slate's patient voice guiding me through impossible systems, teaching me how to channel my chaotic thoughts into digital weapons.
"He was the first person who didn't treat my ADHD like a problem to fix." My throat tightens. "He called it my superpower."
Asher moves into the kitchen, positioning himself against the counter. "Were you ever involved beyond your professional relationship?"
My head snaps up. "For fuck's sake, Asher! He's my mentor, not my ex!"
Asher's gaze holds mine, unwavering. "That doesn't mean his feelings stayed professional."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I freeze mid-pace, coffee forgotten as my brain frantically scrolls through years of interactions. Slate's lingering glances, the way he'd bring me coffee, exactly how I liked it, his protectiveness when other guys came around.
"Oh god." My stomach lurches. "You think he—"
I can't finish the sentence. My cheeks flush hot, then cold. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, the fog outside pressing closer.
I grip the edge of the counter until my knuckles turn white, my breathing shallow and quick. "I need to look deeper into this code." I push away from the counter. "Something's not adding up."
I race back to the workstation, my mind swirling with possibilities and betrayals. I catch Asher watching me with an expression I can't quite read, but there's something almost like satisfaction in his eyes that makes me pause.
"Wait," I tilt my head. "Are you... jealous?"
Asher's face returns to its usual impassive mask so quickly I almost laugh. "Tactical assessment of potential security risks."
"Uh-huh." A smile tugs at my lips, despite everything. "Because that totally explains why you tensed up every time he called me Nessa."
"Focus on the code, little bunny." His voice remains neutral, but there's a hint of something new there, something almost human breaking through his ice.
The absurdity of it—stoic, frozen Asher capable of jealousy—lightens the weight in my chest for just a moment. But as I turnback to my monitors, reality crashes back in, heavy as the fog pressing against the windows.
"Let's find the truth," I whisper, pulling up Vertex Models' security architecture on all monitors simultaneously. Each screen displays different segments of code. Authentication protocols on one, encryption layers on another, user permissions on the third.
