The Devil's Archivist

Chapter 11

August POV:

The smell of black coffee and woodsmoke woke me.

I pulled the heavy wool blanket higher over my bare shoulders, wincing slightly at the tender ache between my thighs—a lingering, delicious reminder of Christopher and the storm that had raged inside this cabin last night.

I turned my head on the leather sofa. Christopher was standing near the cabin’s high front window, bathed in the gray light of dawn.

He had on a fresh pair of dark trousers, but his white dress shirt remained unbuttoned at the chest, sleeves rolled past his forearms. In one hand, he held a steaming mug; in the other, he held his phone to his ear, his sharp jaw locked tight as he listened to a voice on the encrypted line.

"No," Christopher said low, his voice gravelly from sleep. "Julian won't use local law enforcement. He knows I have the ledger. He'll send his private security firm first to clean up the mess off-the-books."

He paused, listening, his golden eyes scanning the dense pine forest outside.

"Keep an eye on the campus archives. If Julian's men try to clear out Clara's old files, burn the server," Christopher instructed sharply. "I'll contact you at noon."

He ended the call, set his phone on the timber desk, and turned toward me. The moment his amber eyes met mine, the cold, calculating expression on his face softened into something fiercely warm.

"Good morning, little bird," he murmured, walking over to the sofa and crouching down beside me.

"Who was that?" I asked, sitting up and clutching the blanket against my chest.

"An old ally in the university's IT department," Christopher said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear. His thumb traced my lower lip, making my pulse jump. "Julian Vance hasn't gone into hiding. In fact, he's doing the opposite."

I frowned, my chest tightening. "What do you mean?"

"Your uncle called an emergency board meeting at Blackwood for tomorrow afternoon," Christopher explained, his voice turning cold. "He's spinning the Gala incident as a terrorist break-in. He claimed the ledger was stolen by an 'unstable scholarship student'—you—and an 'unhinged archivist.'"

A cold laugh escaped my throat. "He's framing us before we can even release the ledger."

"Julian is a corporate predator, August. He knows that in the court of public opinion, whoever controls the narrative first wins." Christopher stood up, offering me his hand. "Which is why we aren't going to hide out here like victims."

I took his hand, letting him pull me up from the sofa. The wool blanket draped around my waist as I stood before him, bare and unbothered, looking directly into his eyes.

"What's the plan?" I asked, my voice steady.

Christopher's dark smirk returned—the dangerous, arrogant tilt of his lips that made my heart race.

"The ledger contains fifty pages of encrypted bank accounts connecting Julian to human trafficking and bribery," he said, stepping closer until his chest brushed mine. "My sister, Clara, died because she tried to expose those accounts alone five years ago. But she didn't have what I have."

"What do you have?"

Christopher wrapped his large arm around my waist, pulling my body flush against his, his hand resting possessively over the curve of my hip.

"You," he whispered against my lips. "You know the Vance family codes, August. You know how Julian hides his offshore foundations. Together, we are going to dismantle your uncle's empire before that board meeting starts tomorrow."

"He thinks I'm just a powerless scholarship student he can manipulate," I murmured, my hands coming up to rest against his broad chest. "He has no idea what you've taught me."

"Then let's go teach him a lesson," Christopher growled low, dipping his head to capture my mouth in a slow, deep kiss that tasted like coffee and promise.