Page 71 of Hunt Me
“Former CIA field operative, reassigned to domestic intelligence three years ago.” Erik’s finger traces the timeline. “Same time Iris started her investigation. That’s not a coincidence.”
“No,” Nikolai agrees. “It’s containment. They put Morrison in position to monitor her.”
“And if she gets too close?” Dmitri asks.
“Then Morrison activates whatever asset they have waiting.” Erik’s jaw tightens. “Standard protocol for classified exposure.”
The office door opens, and Iris stands there wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else. Her platinum hair is sleep-mussed, ice-blue eyes sharp despite the hour.
“What’s going on?”
Four pairs of eyes turn to her. She doesn’t flinch under the scrutiny, which earns my grudging respect for my brothers.
“Family meeting,” I say, crossing to her.
“About me, apparently.” She looks past me to the monitors displaying her parents’ files. “You called them.”
“They needed to know what we’re dealing with.”
Dmitri’s laugh cuts through the tension. “This is the Phantom? She looks like she should be modeling lingerie, not breaking into our servers.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Iris says coolly.
“Clearly.” Erik’s assessing gaze moves between us. “She’s been in your bed how long?”
“Three days,” I say before Iris can respond.
“Three days, and you’re calling emergency family meetings?” Dmitri grins. “That’s got to be a record, even for you.”
“Fuck off.”
“No, seriously.” Dmitri settles more comfortably against my desk. “You’ve known her for what, a week total? And already you’re dragging us into a war with government black ops?”
“I’ve known her for eight months since I started chasing her.” The correction comes sharper than intended.
“Knowing how someone hacks isn’t the same as knowing them,” Erik points out.
Iris steps further into the room. “He’s right. He doesn’t know me.”
“I know you lost your parents when you were sixteen. I know you take sleeping pills for nightmares and drink too much coffee and name all your systems after constellations.” I hold her gaze. “I know you’re terrified right now, but too stubborn to show it.”
Her throat works with a swallow.
“That’s still just data,” Dmitri says. “Doesn’t explain why she’s in your bed.”
“Because I put her there,” I snap.
“And she stayed because...?”
“Because the alternative was going home to an apartment Morrison probably already has surveillance on.” Iris crosses her arms. “Though I’m starting to think that might have been safer.”
Her words slice deeper than any code could. After everything we shared—the nightmares, the confessions, the raw vulnerability—she’s reducing this to convenience and safety calculations.
“Right.” I turn back to the monitors. “Safer. That’s what this is about.”
“Alexi—”
“No, I get it. You needed a secure location. Mission accomplished.”
