Page 112 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
Excusing myself gracefully, I time my path to intersect with the server near a blind spot identified earlier. As we cross paths, I pretend to stumble slightly, my hand brushing against his belt.
"So sorry." My hidden device captures the keycard data in seconds while steadying myself against him.
"No problem at all, miss." He continues on his route.
Slipping away, success buzzes through my veins. "Package secured."
"Don't take unnecessary risks." Asher responds immediately, voice tight. "Follow the plan exactly."
"Always do."
Moving toward our next checkpoint, conversations slow around one section of the crowd. Heads turn, voices drop to reverential whispers. Through the reflection in a gilded mirror, a tall, platinum blonde woman enters.
Tatiana Ivanov.
She moves with glacial elegance, ice-blue eyes scanning the room with a calculated gaze. The crowd parts before her like water, drawn to yet intimidated by her commanding presence. Her designer gown catches the light with each deliberate step, fabric rustling softly against silk stockings.
I drift from the main crowd, champagne flute in hand, appearing to admire artwork lining the reception area walls. The bubbles tickle my nose as I take a small sip, fingers instinctively tapping patterns against the crystal stem while tracking Tatiana through the gilded mirror's reflection.
"She's exactly like the reports described." I activate the recording function with a subtle touch to my hair. "Ice queen doesn't begin to cover it."
Through peripheral vision, patterns emerge in her interactions; dismissive nods to senators' wives, lingering touches on tech CEOs' arms, smiles that never reach her eyes for foreign diplomats. Each gesture weaves together, forming a larger picture.
"Interesting. She's avoiding anyone connected to medical foundations but engaging with transportation and tech sectors."
The scent of expensive cologne and catered delicacies fills the air while my body remains still, mind racing to connect invisible threads between the people Tatiana acknowledges. Something clicks, the same financial web Jenny uncoveredbefore she died. Identical transfers preceding six models disappearing from Vertex.
A tall figure in a face mask approaches Tatiana from behind. Silver and midnight blue conceal his face, but nothing hides the military bearing in his movements. My breath catches.
The way he surveys the room before approaching, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. This isn't some wealthy donor playing dress-up.
"Hold up." Moving to examine a different painting provides a better angle. "Something's happening."
Tatiana's posture shifts almost imperceptibly when the masked man appears at her side. She doesn't turn to face him, but her fingers brush against his in what appears casual. Something passes between them. A tiny object, perhaps a drive or card.
The exchange takes less than three seconds.
They move toward the east wing corridor. The restricted area where the server room sits, according to the board member's napkin sketch.
"Frost, she's moving to the east wing with an unknown male asset. Military bearing, masked, a little over six feet tall. Something's happening right now." My voice remains calm despite the adrenaline surging through my system. "This matches the pattern from Jenny's investigation—right before she died."
Asher's response comes through my superior signal connection, voice tight with tension: "Maintain position. Do not follow. Repeat: maintain position."
Every instinct screams to follow them. Standing frozen at the ballroom's edge, watching Tatiana and the masked man disappear down the restricted corridor, my fingers tighten around the champagne flute while weighing variables, risks, potential outcomes.
Thunder crashes outside, making crystal chandeliers tremble. Rain lashes the tall windows with increasing fury, as if the storm understands the war raging inside my head.
Follow orders or follow my gut?
"I think this connects to what happened to Jenny. She was tracking these exact transfers before she stopped communicating."
Lightning flashes, illuminating the ballroom in stark white. Static threatens the connection as Asher begins to respond.
"—repeat, do not—" His voice wavers slightly, my enhanced signal holding better than expected, but still affected by the storm's electrical interference.
Another crack of thunder, and the decision crystallizes.
"Communications partially compromised." My heart pounds as I commit to disobedience, knowing Asher can probably still hear every word. "Following targets to gather time-sensitive intel. If this is what got Jenny killed, I need to know why."
