5
979 Words
Salem barely slowed.
One hand held the fork, the other kept moving across the keyboard, eyes flicking between code and data like nothing else existed. Bite, type, analyze. Efficient. Controlled.
Miles watched her like he’d just discovered a new species.
“You’re not even tasting that, are you?” he said.
“Yes, I am.”
“You took one bite and went right back to work.”
“It’s called multitasking.”
“It’s called a problem,” he muttered.
River didn’t comment—but his gaze tracked the way she moved, the precision, the discipline. The way she didn’t allow herself to stop.
Salem ignored both of them.
Her phone buzzed again.
She didn’t check it this time.
It buzzed again.
Miles reached for it.
Salem’s hand shot out—fast—catching his wrist mid-air.
“Don’t.”
Their eyes met.
Close.
Too close again.
Miles’ gaze dropped briefly to where her fingers wrapped around him—light, but firm.
His voice lowered. “Relax. Wasn’t gonna steal your secrets.”
Salem released him immediately, jaw tightening. “Then don’t touch my things.”
“Then answer it,” he shot back.
It buzzed a third time.
River’s voice was quieter. “It might be important.”
Salem exhaled sharply, grabbed the phone, and answered without looking at the screen.
“What?”
Rhea’s face filled the display instantly.
The first thing she did was squint.
The second?
She smirked.
“Well, damn,” Rhea drawled. “You’re actually eating.”
Salem rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” Rhea said, leaning closer to her camera. “You look tired. And—wait—are those two behind you?”
Salem froze for half a second.
Too late.
Miles leaned into frame with zero hesitation. “Hey, Rhea.”
Rhea’s grin widened. “Oh, this just got interesting.”
River didn’t step into view—but he didn’t move away either.
He was listening.
Of course he was.
“Focus,” Salem snapped. “Why are you calling?”
Rhea’s expression shifted—still sharp, but more serious now.
“I ran a cross-check on that breach you flagged earlier,” she said. “Thought something looked off.”
Salem straightened, food immediately forgotten.
“And?”
Rhea tapped something off-screen. “Sending it now.”
Salem’s system pinged.
New data uploaded.
Her fingers moved instantly, pulling it up, overlaying it with the Crescent Moon logs.
For a second—
Nothing.
Then—
Her entire posture went still.
Miles noticed first. “What is it?”
Salem didn’t answer.
Her eyes tracked the patterns.
Matched the timestamps.
Aligned the signatures.
Her voice dropped.
“…No.”
River stepped closer. “What?”
Salem spun the screen toward them.
“These patterns,” she said. “They’re identical.”
Miles frowned. “Meaning?”
Rhea answered from the phone.
“Meaning whoever hit IronWard…” she said slowly, “…is the same one hitting Crescent Moon.”
Silence hit hard.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
River’s expression shifted—subtle, but sharp.
“That’s not coincidence,” he said.
“No,” Salem agreed. “It’s not.”
Miles pushed off the desk, energy snapping into something darker. “So someone’s targeting both of you?”
Rhea nodded. “Looks that way.”
Salem’s mind was already racing—faster than before.
“Timing lines up,” she said. “The test run on my system came before the last breach here.”
River’s gaze locked on hers. “They escalated.”
“Yes.”
“Which means—”
“They’re not just probing anymore,” Salem finished. “They’re preparing.”
Rhea’s voice cut in. “Sal… this is bigger than we thought.”
Salem didn’t look at the phone.
Didn’t look at the twins.
Her focus locked onto the screen.
Connecting threads.
Building patterns.
Seeing the shape of something far worse.
“Get down here,” she said.
Rhea blinked. “What?”
“I need a second set of eyes,” Salem said, sharper now. “On-site. Immediately.”
“Sal—”
“That’s not a request.”
Rhea studied her for half a second—then nodded once.
“Already packing,” she said. “Give me a few hours.”
“Faster.”
“I’ll try.”
The call ended.
⸻
Silence filled the room again.
But it wasn’t the same silence.
This one had teeth.
Miles dragged a hand through his hair. “So we’ve got someone targeting both your company and our pack.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Salem’s jaw tightened. “That’s what I’m about to figure out.”
River stepped closer again—deliberate this time.
Not accidental.
Not subtle.
“Then we’re not treating this as separate problems anymore,” he said.
Salem looked at him.
“No,” she agreed. “We’re not.”
Miles exhaled slowly, tension rolling off him in waves. “You’re not handling this alone.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
That earned her a look.
Sharp.
Interested.
Salem turned back to the screen, pulling up a new set of data.
“If they’re confident enough to hit both targets,” she continued, “they’re either extremely skilled… or extremely close.”
River’s voice lowered. “Inside.”
“Yes.”
Miles’ expression darkened. “Then we find them.”
Salem’s fingers moved faster.
Focused.
Precise.
But this time—
She wasn’t just aware of the problem.
She was aware of them.
River, steady at her side.
Miles, restless behind her.
Close.
Protective.
Dangerously aligned with her now.
And for the first time since she arrived—
Salem didn’t push that away.
Didn’t fight it.
Didn’t run.
Because whatever this was—
It just became her fight too.
And she never walked away from those.
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